Snow Ballet
by NightRhain
Summary: Inspired by fanart by Exzire, Snow Ballet is a modern One Piece AU set during the Olympics in which Sanji and Nami are a figure skating pair, Robin is their coach, and the rest of the Straw Hats and White Beard Pirates are members of the hockey team for the USA and Canada. Fan Art and notes can be found under the Master Post on my Tumblr page. Rated M for NSFW situations. Zosan.
1. Practice before opening ceremonies

The very first memory Sanji ever had of his parents was of them reading to him. The memory of his mother was more the way she smelled—Sweet, like apples and frosting—and the way she felt than it was anything specific. His father's voice was gentle and kind. The sound of it soothed him. It made him feel safe and warm. He knew nothing could ever go wrong as long as they were there.

The very best memory Sanji ever had of his parents was the three of them on the Tilt-a-Whirl. They were spinning and spinning and spinning so fast that the world around them was nothing but a blur of lights and colours streaking through the evening. The smell of cotton candy and clouds was in the air. He and his mother huddled together, laughing and laughing until they had tears streaming down their cheeks. His father sat across from them, a giant teddy bear buckled into the spare seat, and his hands wrapped tightly around a wheel that made them spin.

The ride ended just as the rain began to fall in sheets. Sanji's father picked him up and put him on his shoulders, while his mother carried his prize and they all ran towards the car together. The night was warm, and the rain felt good. His mother was still laughing, and his father's strong hands were his only connection to the ground. It felt like flying. It was perfect.

The very last memory Sanji ever had of his parents was clouded by screaming and pain.

The three of them had been on a bus. They were headed in to the city to see the ice sculptures at the winter festival. Sanji was so excited to skate on the canal, to go through the giant snow maze, and to have poutine. If he was very good, he might even be able to convince his father to buy him some of that snowy maple syrup on a stick. They only ever ate junk food like that when they were on vacation, so Sanji liked to see how far he could press his luck on the matter.

Sanji didn't know how the bus ended up in the lake. All he remembered was the slushy water rushing in through the broken windows. Colder than he could ever remember being. His mother was coated in red. Beyond her was nothing but black water. He didn't know what happened to his father. It was just cold, and dark, and scary, and Sanji didn't think he would be getting any candy that day.

The next thing he knew, he was curled up in the arms of some stranger. They were lying on top of the ice, he and the stranger. And they were wet. And it was cold.

"Saaaanji-kun…"

Sanji blinked open his eyes from where he was laying on his back on the practice ice. Nami was standing over him. Or, rather, looming. Her hands were on her hips, and she was bent over so that her face could very well have touched his if only she leaned just a little bit more. Pink lips were pressed together in a pout, and orange red curls fell down from a pony tail to frame her perfect cheeks.

Her breasts were heaving with her heavy and frustrated breaths under her pale blue dress. Nami had the most amazing rack. It was a wonder how she didn't topple over right on top of him, but he supposed that her balance had a lot to do with growing up in Japan, and all of the bowing everyone did over there. At least if cartoons had taught him anything.

A broad smile crossed his lips, and Sanji immediately pushed away thoughts of his childhood. "Oui, ma chère cygne?" he beamed back up at her as though it were perfectly normal to be lying on his back on the ice instead of being up on his feet and practicing.

Nami rolled her eyes and stood back upright. "He's fine," she informed Robin, skating away, and only flicking a few ice shavings in Sanji's direction as she went. Nami was thoughtful that way.

With a sigh, Sanji sank in a toepick and pressed back up to his blades. "Sorry, Miss Robin," he said honestly, brushing some of the snow off his black slacks.

Robin watched him keenly before nodding. Either she was satisfied there was nothing wrong, or decided she wouldn't be getting a straight answer. "It's alright, Sanji. Let's go back to the first break and take it from there."

Practice after that was intense. He and Nami both had bruises and blisters in uncomfortable places before they were through, and neither of them had ever been more excited to see the hockey players coming in to kick them off the ice.

Figure skating in Canada—Even at the Olympic level—was a strangely taboo thing, as far as the general public was concerned. It wasn't so much that they thought the costumes were weird, or that they didn't understand the artistic value, or even that they didn't comprehend the athleticism. No, Canadians thought figure skaters weird simply because the skater hadn't decided to pick up a hockey stick after he'd strapped on his skates.

Most hockey players respected them enough to be cool with the figure skating thing, but some of them were total goons over it. A few bar fights in Vancouver had set that record straight four years earlier. By the end of each of the fights no one could remember who had started them. Everyone was just laughing and drinking and singing together in French and English. Every so often, Sanji would see people peeling off in pairs to enjoy the Athletes' Village together.

This wasn't the Canadian hockey team rolling in, though. The players wore navy, red, and white, and the goalie's mask was painted like an American flag. He could already hear the murmuring on the team about his clothing, his sport, even his hair. With a grunt of derision, Sanji blew a loose strand out of his face and wiped the sweat from his forehead on the back of his long poufy sleeve.

Self-obsessed and pompous hockey players… Like they were even ones to talk… One of their players had a long blue pony tail hanging down his back that was easily longer than Nami's. And he was pretty sure the big quiet one with the A on his shirt was going moldy on top.

Sanji's eyes drifted up to the scoreboard to check the time. Technically, they still had another five minutes, but it probably wasn't worth arguing over. He turned his attention to Robin to wait for instruction, but she was distracted.

One of the largest men was leaning on the boards next to her. He had a bandage on his nose from where it appeared to have been broken and reset, and his hair—also blue. Was that a 'thing' on this team?—was spiked out at such an odd angle that it looked like antlers. Sanji hadn't realised Robin's type was so… big. Actually, if he were to be completely honest, he thought Robin's 'type' was, well, 'Nami'.

Ah, Nami and Robin. Together. The thought of it would have been enough to send him into a swooning spiral, had he not been suddenly knocked into by one of the players. Acting more on instinct than anything else, he twisted around the bump and hip-checked the offending player.

Moldy-Top went down like a toddler running in sand, and was laid out flat on his ass before he even had a moment to comprehend what had happened. Anger quickly boiled up in him, and he reached out to hook Sanji's skate. "What the Hell do you think you're doing, asshole?" he snapped.

"You should watch where you're going, idiot," Sanji snapped right back easily skirting the edge of the stick. He had the distinct impression that if the hockey player had a second stick he'd be swinging that at him too. Brute force. Violence. It lacked a certain level of finesse. Probably owing to the way moss-head was sprawled on the ice like a fish out of water. "Aren't you hockey players supposed to be good with the whole situational awareness thing?"

Everyone was quiet and watching them, and Sanji was suddenly aware of it. He felt it tingling up his spine. It was possible he was over-reacting to the situation.

"Maybe if you snow-ballerinas weren't hogging the ice, you wouldn't get run into."

Later, Sanji would realise that was possibly the weirdest thing he'd ever been called. "Maybe if all of that moss growing down into your brain wasn't impacting your ability to tell time—" He didn't have time to finish the thought before some laughing fool came crashing over and flopped on top of green-hair.

'Monkey' the back of his shirt said, and God but it was appropriate. He was all arms and legs. Small and flexible. "Pile on Zoro!" he called out. It sounded ridiculous, but some of the other players were already skating over to join. It was the most idiotic conflict resolution he'd ever seen, and it was stunningly effective.

While he contemplated the pile of hockey players that was starting to form silently next to his feet, Nami skated up to his side. "Robin says that's it for now."

Sanji nodded dumbly and let her lead him off the ice. "Idiot hockey players," he murmured, glaring over his shoulder at Zoro, who was glaring straight back at him even from under the pile. They were all straightening up and preparing for their drills, so Sanji decided to ignore them. He and Nami left the ice and sat on the benches, quietly sliding skate guards on so that they could walk over the concrete to the locker rooms.

"Sorry about that," a bright voice drew Sanji's attention back up. Monkey—The captain apparently, according to the C on his jersey—was leaning on the boards and smiling at them. "I shot the puck past you and Zoro was just trying to catch the pass. Plus, it's my fault we were early." He shrugged. Something told Sanji that this guy didn't much care for things like rules and schedules. "I'm Luffy," he said, offering his hand before Sanji had a chance to reply to the first part. "Luffy D Monkey. I'm going to be the best player in the history of the NHL."

Sanji stared at the gesture like he'd never seen a handshake before, but then reached out to take it cautiously. "Sanji," he said and gave one pump.

Luffy's grin split impossibly wider. "Hi Sanji!"

"Captain! You planning on joining the rest of us for these drills?" Zoro called over. He didn't raise his voice, but it carried over the ice on a rumble. Obnoxiously sexy if you were into that sort of thing.

Luffy laughed and scratched the back of his head. He looked like he had in fact forgotten why they were there. "Nice to meet you," he said quickly, and then skated over to join his Assistant captains where they were assigning drills to the rest of the team.

Sanji glanced at Nami, blinking. "That is the weirdest hockey team I've ever seen," he admitted.

She nodded solemnly. "Definitely strange," she agreed.

"I don't think we have much to worry about from the Americans this year."

Nami nodded again, watching Sanji. "You're dwelling," she commented, nudging him with the edge of her shoulder. "Go get dressed. You're going to take me shopping."

Shopping with Nami meant following her around while she picked out a bunch of things for Sanji to buy her, carrying her bags, and making certain to tell her how beautiful she looked in everything she tried on. It was one of Sanji's favourite things to do. "Sounds perfect."

Nami kissed him on the cheek before linking an arm with his and pulling them towards the locker rooms. He pretended the blush was because of the kiss, but he was also pretty sure that Zoro's eyes were drilling into his back as he walked away. A quick gaze back once he hit the door told him he'd been imagining it. If asked later, he would deny the disappointment he felt.


	2. Day one morning

Actual warnings for actual NSFWness. Real and imagined. I know, it took me by surprise too. I was just intending to have half naked, fresh from the shower Sanji, but instead Sanji insisted he would spend his free time like this.

Master Post

Most of the NHL players at the Olympics preferred to stay outside of the Athletes Village. One couldn't really blame them. The rooms in the Village were set up like dorms at a university. Small rooms. At a small university. That had to cut corners last minute so they could house a few thousand more students. With an NHL salary, the players tended to find somewhere more extravagant to bunk.

That wasn't the case with Sanji's roommate. No, this high profile NHL rockstar was content to slum in the cramped quarters with someone he'd never even met before. It was weird. But then again, Ace D Portgas wasn't your average celebrity.

Ace was the kind of guy who took pleasure in the simple things in life. Sleep, food, hockey. Lather rinse repeat. Even when it came to his contract, he preferred to remain loyal to his home town rather than taking the buckets of money Detroit offered to throw at him. Ace had a no-trade agreement with the Flames, and he intended to stay in Calgary until he retired.

Sanji had learned all of this doing a basic Google search once he'd found out who his roommate was. It was the smart thing to do to make sure he wasn't sharing space with a total sociopath. He'd also learned that aside from a brother who played in one of the junior leagues, most of Ace's family had died when he was still a little kid. Sanji could relate to that much at least.

Personality wise, "Fire-Fist Ace" was a guy who loved to get in bar fights, spent his free time thrill seeking, and never missed a Stampede. He was sweet and polite according to his Twitter feed (Assuming he hadn't just hired someone to do his Twitter feed). He liked tattoos, but made a lot of weird decisions about them. Who got a tattoo of their own name? From an artist so drunk he couldn't even spell a common three letter word, no less? And then, who kept the mess that was made instead of having something put over it?

At that point in his investigation, Sanji had gone down an internet hole, and spent the next few hours laughing at terrible tattoo mistakes with Nami. Which was probably why he'd never come across the information that his temporary roommate was narcoleptic.

It was a little disturbing, and at first he thought the guy was fucking with him. It happened in the middle of a conversation they were having about where you could find the best poutine. Sanji preferred Elgin St. Diner in Ottawa, but Ace was a Québec poutine purist. Suddenly, Ace informed him he was pretty tired, put his head back, and just fell asleep. If it wasn't for the Medical Alert bracelet, Sanji would have been offended.

While Ace cat-napped, Sanji decided to head to the common room for all of the Team Canada athletes. A 'Thundersnow' storm had taken out the power to the main dining hall. Luckily, the Team Canada common room had a small kitchen where he should be able to whip something simple up for the pair of them to share.

Three hours later the skater was the most popular man on 'campus,' thanks to hungry young athletes who didn't know how to fend for themselves, and to skills he'd learned working at his adopted father's restaurant. There wasn't a lot of food—no one was expecting to need to stock the common rooms with much since there was a dining hall for that sort of thing—but Sanji knew how to make food stretch.

It helped that some guy named Marco was on board with making sure he got any supplies he asked for. Sanji learned that Marco was a friend of Ace's. He to played hockey for Team Canada, and he was another star athlete who had decided to slum it in the Village. He'd been born in Vancouver but lived in Arizona where he played for the Coyotes.

Based on intel from Marco, Sanji decided to bring Ace back something to eat. Apparently there were a few "rare" things (like sleeping, hockey, and breathing) that made Ace hungry. Marco was also helpful in finding out just what food Ace liked best, what he was allergic to, and how to tell when Ace was just being polite versus when he actually liked what he was eating.

Sanji suspected that Marco had more than just a passing interest in deciding if Ace liked what he was eating, but didn't comment on it. Don't ask don't tell in Russia, after all. Still, it was sweet the way Marco couldn't help but smile when he said Ace's name.

The athletes' rooms had a small lobby with doors leading to the hall, the bathroom, their bedroom, and a TV room with a sofa and two chairs. "Oi, Ace. You awake?" Sanji called out as he hipped open the door to the TV room, but Ace wasn't there. "Guess so," he said and set the plate down on one of the chairs.

Taped over the note Sanji had left for Ace to say where he'd gone, Ace had left a note explaining he'd gone to visit his brother. Sanji had no idea that Ace's brother was at the games too. It was weird that Marco didn't mention another Portgas on the team. Or maybe his brother was just visiting him at the games. Which, if that was true, was a really nice thing to do. It would be nice to have a sibling like that.

Not knowing what else to do—He doubted Russian cable would hold much interest when he couldn't speak the language—Sanji slipped his phone out of his pocket and texted Nami. IWhat are you up to?/I

As though Nami's phone was already in her hands when she got his text, her response was fairly immediate. ILingerie pillow fight. /I

Sanji felt the blood drain from his face and travel south. His hand followed to give himself a little rub, appreciating the mental image like a proper pervert should. IPictures or it didn't happen. /I Please let there be pictures.

ILater./I

Oh, fuck yes. That would be amazing. Sanji slipped one hand in a pocket and squirmed from one foot to the other before replying, IPromise? /I

There was a longer delay before Nami replied again. IOnly if you're good./I

IDamn. No chance of that./I If Sanji thought there was any sort of possibility of getting pictures of Robin and Nami in their lingerie, he would have been better behaved than the Pope. More likely, however, was that Nami wasn't really in the mood to chat. She was probably getting beauty rest before she was ready to hit the bar scene in Sochi. Not that she needed it. IPing me when you're ready to go out? /I

IOf course. /I

Sanji slipped his phone back into his pocket and stood in the room trying to decide what to do. He'd already done the Team Canada socialising. The dining hall still wasn't an option. Ace was gone out with his brother. There weren't a lot of events on day one that he could go watch. He'd already been shopping. And there wasn't really enough time to go anywhere if he was planning on going out with Nami later.

Leave it to Sanji to get bored at one of the most exciting events in the world.

Still, with Ace out, Sanji was free to make use of their dorm however he wanted to. A rarity for a man who'd grown up in what could be best described as a frat house for retired fighter-cooks. It was nice to be alone. The other half of his time was spent with two of the sexiest and situationally unavailable women on the entire planet. Who were apparently off somewhere having a pillow fight together…

His hand slid down to rub at himself, and it was only after a few strokes that he realised he was doing it. The idea of Nami and Robin, all sweaty and nearly naked while they jumped around on big plush beds, feathers floating around in the air… One would get stuck in Nami's hair, and Robin would reach out to pluck it free. Then she would tickle it down the side of Nami's face, let it dance over her plush lips, slide along her jaw.

Robin would let the feather fly away so she could brush the pad of her thumb over the same trail. Nami would be tentative and a little uncertain, but Robin would guide her through it. Her long, manicured fingernails would scrape gently down the side of Nami's neck. She would slip the strap of Nami's camisole off one shoulder, and just let it hang there.

Then Robin would look Nami in the eyes, and Nami would beg her for more with just a look. Robin would dip in to let her mouth trail chaste kisses over the side of Nami's neck, and Nami would gasp. Her pale breasts would be heaving in her satiny pink lingerie as they tried to break free of the delicate fabric that was just a little too small to properly contain them.

Sanji bit his lower lip and looked around again to make absolutely certain he was alone before sliding his hand into his pants. Gentle touches, almost uncertain over his boxer briefs. He was toying with himself. Teasing. Just like he imagined Robin was teasing Nami at that same moment.

Then Robin's fingers would find one perfect nipple where it was hidden beneath the fabric. Just a flick. A little touch. And Nami would moan sweetly as her body responded. Three more little brushes over the satin. The nipple was excited enough to get hard, pointing at Robin in invitation.

Robin would take that invitation. She would duck down and run her tongue along the fabric, licking and wetting it, and letting Nami feel her mouth on her body, if not her skin. Then Robin would reach up and begin to palm Nami's other breast, because Robin was kind and wouldn't want the other breast to get jealous of the attention. When it too became pert, she would move her lips over to that one as well.

Sanji closed his eyes and let the fingers of his free hand trail over his dress shirt to find one of his own nipples. With short nails, he bit and teased and plucked until it stood at attention.

Instead of licking Nami's other breast, she would close her lips on the point giving just the hint of a bite. Nami would groan at that, and brush her fingers through Robin's hair, whispering her name. It would be hard to think, hard to breathe in the tight lingerie, but Robin wouldn't give her the chance to get out of it.

Instead, Robin would continue trailing her mouth lower. She would slide her hands inside of Nami-san's top so that she could rub her fingers on her perfect stomach. Nami had made Robin wait for this for so long that Robin would return the favour, laying her slowly back against the wall.

Sanji's cock was throbbing, waking up under the tentative touches that mirrored Robin's in his imagination. His hips had a mind of their own, urging more contact with his hand until he too needed to lean back against the wall for stability.

Robin would kneel in front of her. She would continue rubbing and stroking Nami while her mouth travelled south. Ever south. And Nami would part her legs. She wouldn't know what to expect, and she wouldn't be sure if this was right, but she would do it anyway. She would invite Robin to simply take anything she wanted.

Robin wanted Nami. She wanted her so bad she could already taste her. But Robin was patient. She wanted to make sure this was perfect, and that Nami had the best time possible. So caring and kind…

As a reward for Nami opening herself to Robin, the raven haired beauty would dip in to lick a line up from the inside of Nami's knee to just short of where her satin panties began. Robin could smell how wet Nami was already, but she still wasn't done teasing. With a brush of teeth, Robin adjusted so that she could travel the same path up on Nami's other leg.

Sanji couldn't move with the thought of it all. It was like he was paralyzed by his own thoughts, unable to stop himself from moaning along with them.

Robin would hold Nami in place with her hands. Tight and secure. Sometimes they would be on her perfect trim waist, and sometimes higher where they could play with her breasts. Robin would touch Nami with such experience that Nami wouldn't be able to tell she only had two hands.

And then, just when Nami was on the edge of begging, Robin would lick a single line along the satin panties, and Nami would be unable to even entertain the notion of speaking. Nami would taste sweet, and dirty in that delightfully slutty way. She would be wet already, but Robin's mouth would add to that with a gentle prodding of her tongue.

Sanji's mouth watered just thinking of it. Nami would taste so good through her beautiful lingerie. His legs parted, mind willing someone to walk in and treat him the way Nami was being treated in his mind.

Both of Nami's hands would be fisted in Robin's hair by that point. And Nami, so used to being the one in control, would be just dripping with begging murmurs. Robin-san. Or, Robin-Isama/I. That was even more hot, so that's what Nami would say… Robin-sama, she would breathe, and Robin would reward her for recognising who was in control by pressing her tongue more solidly against Nami's opening.

The satin of the underwear would prevent Robin's tongue from being able to fully penetrate Nami, just as the cotton of Sanji's underwear was preventing him from getting any skin contact. It would be delightfully teasing. In and out in and out, but no real progress. So Nami would begin to rock with the pressure. She would arch her back and roll her hips, but in the end Robin still had all the control.

After all that time wanting Nami and never being able to have her, Robin would make Nami beg. Robin-sama, please, Nami would say. Please, she would stress.

"IPlease/I," Sanji breathed raggedly.

Only when Robin had her begging would Robin give in and pull Nami's panties free.

Nami would be ever so neatly trimmed, as though she had been expecting something like this to happen. Her red curls would be short enough to be considerate to her partner, but still long enough to show she was a woman. And Robin would love them, nuzzling her cheek against the ginger patch before parting Nami's lips with her own.

Sanji gasped, his eyes clenched so tight that he was starting to get dizzy. His hand was inside his underwear by that point, mirroring the trip Robin's mouth was taking in his mind. His cock throbbed with the notion of it, and as he pictured that wicked tongue pressing into his Nami—swirling around and tasting and feeling everything—he bucked into his fist.

A flick of her tongue would start at Nami's taint and work its way forward. Then, as Nami parted her legs even more, Robin's mouth searched. Just when it would seem Nami wasn't going to get anything more than external foreplay, Robin would turn her world upside down and plunge her tongue inside of Nami as far as she could.

Sanji let out a sudden long moan, surprising even himself with how loud it was.

While he wasn't expecting it to happen so soon, he knew Ace could return and find him like that at any moment. And Sanji really didn't know what that freckled face would look like, lips parted in surprise, and… Okay, so maybe he was in just the right frame of mind to think the idea of Ace walking in on him—maybe even joining in with him, this was the Athletes Village after all—to be intoxicating.

Paranoid (and more than a little turned on at the idea) of being caught, he opened his eyes to check that he was still alone before he went farther with this.

He couldn't have predicted it.

He could not possibly have predicted finding himself face to face with that green-haired idiot from Team USA.

Sanji didn't know what to do, so he just went perfectly still. Moss-head was staring at him, and his brain was too sex-addled to come up with anything witty to say. He almost considered inviting the guy to finish him off, but only almost. "…Hi," he breathed, hand still gripping his mad hard on, blushing harder than he possibly ever had.

Zoro stood about two feet away in the entry to their dorm. He had a key in one hand, and a dumbfounded look on his stupid face. "Hi," he said back, not making any move to look away.

They were trapped in each other's gaze, neither one sure what would happen if they did anything other than remaining perfectly still. After what seemed like an eternity, Sanji decided he would remove his hand from his pants. Running away would have been a great option, but that was a good first step considering his legs were shaking and didn't seem to want to relocate him.

Before do anything else, Zoro reached out and grabbed him tightly by the bicep. He dragged him forward, turned, and then suddenly Sanji was inside his own room with his back pressed up against the closed door, and some man he'd only just met pressing against him to keep him from falling.

Okay, so Moss-head was both fast and agile. That was unexpected after their collision on the ice. Sanji had expected him to be a brute force sort of player. "What are you doing here?" he asked once he found his words again. Speaking was difficult just then. He was so confused.

"Ace came to visit Luffy." Zoro answered simply. He wasn't moving, seemingly comfortable pressing against a guy he'd just been watching masturbating. "Our power went out, so he invited us over to play some Playstation."

Videogames. That would have been a good idea of something to do to pass the time. Much better than getting caught how he had been. Probably.

That was good information, but it still didn't answer his question. "In my room?"

That seemed to surprise Zoro, but he had an answer for that too. "Could hear Luffy coming up the hall. Didn't want them to catch you, uh…" he trailed off, but Sanji caught his drift.

Still, that didn't answer his question, and the throbbing between his legs was demanding he continue asking until Zoro satisfied him. Verbally, mentally, physically even. It didn't matter how at that point. "Why are you on this side of the door with me?"

Zoro went rigid against Sanji, as though he didn't know the answer to that question either. The silence lingered a little too long to be comfortable. Especially when they heard Ace and Luffy—not to mention a few other voices Sanji didn't recognise—out in the main room.

They both took a breath to speak and break the silence at the same time, and then both paused to let the other speak. Awkward. It was Sanji who finally broke the spell by saying, "You're still holding me…" And he was. All… broad shoulders and arms, pressing him against the door with his own body, staying unnecessarily close.

"Yeah," Zoro agreed. And then blinked like a spell had been broken, jumping back bashfully. "Yeah. Uh… You…" He cleared his throat. "Try not doing that in public next time."

Sanji's eyes narrowed at the retreating figure. "My own room is not 'public' asshole."

"Tch," Zoro replied shortly. He needed an escape route, but Sanji was still in front of the door.

Seeming to realise it at the same time, Sanji stepped aside, ripping the door open and giving Zoro a wide birth to get past. Zoro looked at him intently, and then stalked past like he was a fucking lion.

Motherfucker… He moved like that on purpose, Sanji decided. Zoro was an asshole, forcing him to stare after his retreating form like that.

Just how long had Zoro been watching him? And why hadn't he said anything sooner? And why couldn't Sanji get anything more than pretend-angry about the situation.

Ace popped his head in the door a moment later. He was grinning like an adorable fucking idiot, but his expression faltered when he saw Sanji. His eyes tracked over the blond, cataloguing just how his dress shirt was rumpled, how his pants were open, and how he had that sex-glow about him. A fast acknowledgment and then the grin was back exactly the same as it had been before, like it hadn't happened.

"Come play video games with us," Ace said before ducking away to give Sanji the privacy he needed to collect himself.

With a sigh, Sanji straightened himself up and wondered why Ace couldn't have just gotten an actual hotel room like a Inormal/I famous person.


	3. Day one evening, Day two morning

Snow Ballet - Day One, Night | Day Two, Morning (Modern AU One Piece fic)

Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

If there was one thing in the world that hockey players took as seriously as they did hockey, that thing would be video games. Especially video games about hockey. Especially video games about hockey when they were able to pick themselves to play against their friends, who were also playing themselves. It was a weird thing to watch from the outside, but it was also a little charming.

Luffy picked Luffy, Zoro picked Zoro. Tony Chopper picked Usopp, who in turn picked a player Sanji had never heard of. Ace and Marco picked each other without even discussing it, which was neat to watch. They moved like they knew what each other was thinking at all times, and Sanji wondered why Ace was rooming with him instead of Marco.

Sanji noticed right away that Marco and Ace were in almost constant physical contact with each other. It wasn't even a subtle thing, either. Everyone, noticed. Even Luffy, who seemed about as sexually perceptive as a box of kittens made sure they had their space. They moved in unison. If one of them was crossing their leg, so was the other. If one of them was bent forward laughing, the other would dip at exactly the same time. They sat together on the only two person seat in the room. When it came time to change up so that someone else could sit on the comfortable sofa, they both moved to the floor.

After a few drinks, the other players started acting in a similar way. Sanji wondered how much of it had to do with their personalities, and how much of it had to do with professions. Luffy was like that with all of the Team USA, and Ace and Luffy seemed to have a secret language that didn't require words. They were more than friends or family, they were teammates. Gang members. Crew mates. Nakama, as Nami had called it. The Japanese had all the best words for things.

As the night wore on and the vodka flowed freer, a controller had ended up in Sanji's hands. Without thinking of the consequences to his actions, Sanji decided he would play Chopper.

Chopper was quite possibly the most adorable person Sanji had ever met. One minute he'd be talking about the healing properties of a root from the Amazon that no one had ever heard of, and the next he was sticking straws in his nose and impersonating a walrus. He responded to Sanji's choice by squirming, blushing, and calling him an 'Asshole' all the while insisting he didn't care about being flattered by him. Sanji was pretty sure he'd earned himself a friend for life when Doctor Chopper pulled him into a pile on the floor of the very tiny room.

And just like that, he was one of the guys.

He leaned on Chopper as they played, and Marco rested one foot on his shoulder from where he was sitting on the sofa. Luffy raided all of his snacks, and then curled up on his other side insisting that Sanji was the official snack-man for Team USA. Zoro called Luffy an idiot—Sanji was a Canadian, how could he be on their team?—and Luffy laughed it off and hugged Sanji even closer.

It was a weird thing to be accepted so fully so quickly. Most men didn't take so well to Sanji. Especially 'manly' men, like these ones. Women were easy—he loved charming them, and they loved being charmed—but men could be picky about him. Sure, all the people he'd grown up with were big burley men with big burley hobbies, and sure they loved him like a little brother, but he never really felt like he belonged the way he felt he did around these other Olympians.

It gave him just the warmest of feelings. Not that he intended to let any of them know that…

The last vague memory Sanji had of the night was everyone calling him, Luffy, and Zoro a 'Monster Trio' because of how well the three of them worked together. Even when everyone else ganged up on them, the three of them were undefeated. It was an impressive feat around all of his and Zoro's bickering.

After that, it was a blur.

He was pretty sure he remembered calling Nami to tell her that he would be spending the night in instead of heading out in the thundersnow, though he really didn't remember the conversation. Someone may have taken his phone from him after that and replaced it with another glass of something toxic.

There was so much laughter. They'd opened their door to the room, and other athletes came in and out. Sanji was pretty sure he'd met all of Team Canada, half of Team USA, and a spattering of outgoing athletes from Russia, Germany, and France. There were a lot of camera phones going off. A lot of rage quit videos and selfies. At some point, someone had dumped a bucket of snow on him and Luffy, and there was a brief in-door snowball fight. It would be all over Twitter by the time they woke up in the morning.

Morning came faster than it had any right to.

Someone was knocking on the door to their room. Loudly. It made Sanji moan in annoyance and snuggle closer to the warm body that was draped over him. His shoulder felt numb from sleeping on carpet all night, and his stomach was cold because… Wait, what had happened to his shirt? Oh, right. Ketchup and mustard war.

"Door's for you," Ace said from somewhere close to Sanji.

"How do you know? You didn't even look," Sanji grumbled back.

"Everyone I know is already here."

Sanji let one eye slide open so that he could confirm. Marco was on the sofa with Ace, still snoring. Chopper was curled up impossibly small on a chair. There was more snoring coming from the bedroom, too. "Story checks out," he murmured before closing both eyes again.

The person he was curled up with made a soft noise against him. His lips were so close they were touching the small hairs on the back of his neck in an erotically ticklish sort of way. "Quiet, idiot. It's too early for talking."

A big arm tightened sharply around Sanji's waist, accentuating his order with a squeeze. Then the same arm gently pulled Sanji closer to the warm body behind him, and the quiet words at the back of his neck turned back into yet another snore in the room. Sanji was stunned still by the realisation he was laying on the floor being spooned by a green-haired brute.

The person outside the door pounded again, "Sanji-kun, open up!"

"Dammit, woman!" Zoro called back, annoyed, while Sanji jerked to answer and neatly elbowed Zoro in the face.

"Don't talk to Nami-san like that, asshole!"

Luffy opened the door, grinning broadly at Nami. "Morning Nami!" He was far too perky for however early in the morning it was.

"Don't tell me what to do, Snow Prince!"

"Hi Luffy," she returned as she passed him. Apparently she was unsurprised by seeing the captain of the American hockey team in their room.

"Sanji! Zoro! Be careful! You'll hurt yourselves!" Chopper was sat up in his chair, huge eyes focused on the wrestling match that was breaking out on the floor.

"It smells like a frat house in here," she informed everyone as she came into the small TV room.

"I'll tell you what to do if I feel like it, dumbass hockey player!"

"You haven't heard yet, have you?"

"Heard what?" Marco asked, picking his way carefully around the pair on the floor so he could make it to the bathroom before anyone else thought to try. Ace didn't seem to mind, choosing instead to roll over into Marco's warm spot and nuzzle his pillow.

"Being a hockey player doesn't make me a dumbass, idiot!"

There was a brief beat while Nami took in the sight of Sanji: topless except for a necktie that was loose, dress pants hanging way lower on his hips than they should have been, and wrestling with Zoro. "Get dressed; we need to go to the hospital."

"No, being a dumbass makes you a… Wait, hospital?" Sanji was pulled out of his fight immediately by his sudden concern. He wasn't too distracted not to notice how fast Zoro followed suite and stopped their game. They both went still on the floor, Sanji leaned up with a hand on Zoro's face, Zoro straddling him and supporting his back while Sanji looked upside down at Nami in the door. "What's wrong? Are you okay? Where's Robin-chan?" He began to untangle himself from Zoro as he asked.

Nami was quick to calm him. "I'm fine, Robin's fine." She disappeared into Sanji's room, and returned with a pile of clothing for him. "Iva was stabbed last night."

Sanji pulled his legs out from under Zoro's and pushed himself up just in time to catch the dress shirt being lobbed at his face. "Is she alright?" he asked as he slipped into a light pink dress shirt, popped the collar, and adjusted the tie he was already wearing into place. "What happened?"

"Someone attacked Bon last night, and Iva stepped into the middle of it." As Sanji finished buttoning his shirt, Nami was digging through the pile of Team Canada jackets to try to figure out which one was Sanji's. "Bon's in jail. Robin's on her way to see him now."

"Who are they?" Usopp asked softly. All of the names seemed important to Sanji and Nami, but it was like coming into a movie half way through and not knowing any of the characters.

Ace jumped in to answer Usopp, "Iva was Sanji's trainer before Robin Nico, and Bon is the… Italian Sanji?"

Sanji and Nami both just stared at Ace for a minute, but then Sanji nodded. Ace had the general gist. "French." He wondered how Ace knew that much.

Ace waved the question in Sanji's expression off. "Iva is a friend of a friend." He sat up on the sofa and looked at Nami. "Is it bad?"

Sanji wondered that too, but hadn't asked. He was afraid to know. The way Nami lingered without answering made feel him even more freaked out, but he kept his concern to himself so he wouldn't upset Nami.

Marco wandered out of the bathroom and took in how quickly Sanji was getting dressed. He was moving his fingers so fast that he was missing buttons, and while he didn't know the guy all that well, it seemed out of character. "Oh, that's right, you have that interview with David Amber in twenty minutes," he mumbled with Ace's toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He hadn't heard the conversation, and assumed Nami had been knocking so loud because they were late.

Usopp, who was dancing with his need to pee, skirted around Marco and called second dibs on the bathroom. He shut the door before Marco got to rinse, but Marco didn't seem too concerned.

"Shit, he's right…" Sanji breathed. All of this going down before breakfast and before his first cigarette of the day was simply not fair. He was in no state to be interviewed for international news coverage, but Nami loved being interviewed. He looked over at her, and she seemed disappointed, which made Sanji feel even worse. She had her women's team skate later that day, and she had to deal with him and his friends and miss out on her interview… It just wasn't fair.

"We'll take Sanji to the hospital!" Luffy offered, arm suddenly around Sanji's shoulders like they'd been friends their whole lives.

Ace was nodding in agreement. "And we'll take Nami to the interview?" He looked to Nami for confirmation, then to Marco, and finally back to Sanji. "As a thank you for the delicious dinner last night," he finished, tone implying that the decision had been made.

Ace and Luffy were really good at controlling the flow of a room without anyone else having much of a say once their minds had been made up. It was impossible to imagine what that would even translate to when they faced each other on the ice. Before Sanji realised what was happening, he was sat in the passenger seat of a van filled with the better half of the US men's Olympic hockey team, speeding towards the hospital, and wondering numbly how his life had led to that point.


	4. Day two afternoon

Snow Ballet - Day Two, Afternoon (Modern AU One Piece fic)

Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

Zoro wouldn't wish Sanji's situation on his worst enemy. Watching someone you love just lying in a hospital bed while people talked amongst themselves was awful. Doctors buzzing around holding clip boards and pointing to things, murmuring to each other… It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. That was, until he was stuck at a hospital in a foreign country watching from the outside while someone else had to experience that same helplessness.

Now he was helpless to help someone who was feeling helpless. Great.

On the surface, Sanji was an absolute champion about the whole thing. He'd straightened himself up, fixed his buttons, and even run a comb through his hair. His expression hadn't broken once, as though Sanji had decided to hold off on reacting until he had all the facts. Calm and logical. He looked almost breezy about the whole thing.

Zoro could tell, though. He could see the cracks. Like the way the blond's eyes darted from mouth to mouth every time someone spoke, willing some translation that would provide a new detail on Iva's condition. Or how he was nodding to everything people said to him, numbly agreeing just so they would go away. Or how people kept pressing coffee into his hands, only for Sanji to hand it off to someone else when they weren't paying attention anymore.

That last one was the worst. He was so grateful in voice and action, but his fingers were his tell. He wrapped them a little too thoughtfully, a little too carefully around the cup. His hold didn't adjust in the slightest before pressing it into the hands of someone else. Then those fascinating hands would clench into fists so tight his knuckles would go white before disappearing back into his pockets.

He was going to break, and the flood would either be blood or tears. Possibly both.

They wouldn't even let Sanji in to talk to her or see her. As much as the Canadian clearly cared for this Iva person, he still wasn't family, and that meant he wasn't going to be getting any definitive information any time soon. Iva was not doing well. No one was saying it specifically—Actually, they might have been; none of them spoke Russian well enough to say for sure—but Zoro knew what it felt like when the doctors didn't expect someone to make it.

Sanji was standing with his back to the waiting room, watching the swinging doors that lead to answers. For a while they stood with him, but one by one they all broke away to go to the bathroom, or to simply sit down. Luffy was the last holdout. If Sanji was convinced he was making a difference to Iva by standing there like that, Luffy believed he was making just as much of a difference to Sanji. But eventually even he succumbed to hunger, and slinked off in search of the cafeteria.

Zoro watched them all from where he was slouched on one of the benches, appearing to all the world as though he were fast asleep. Sanji had been standing like that for hours and Zoro was getting tired of watching it. As Sanji was handed yet another cup of coffee from yet another person he didn't recognise, Zoro finally got annoyed enough to do something about it.

"Oi," Zoro said as he stood beside Sanji, hands mirroring the snow prince's, and elbow just jutting out far enough that it knocked into Sanji's. The hit jostled him enough so that the fresh coffee spilled onto Sanji's pale skin, lighting it up a fast bright red, and causing the figure skater to drop the cup on the floor.

Good. Finally got the fucker to do something different with the cup.

Sanji's eyes immediately narrowed at Zoro, like he'd done it on purpose, which pissed Zoro off to some extent. He had, just to see the reaction, but Sanji had no way of knowing that. How dare he assume the worst.

"Asshole," Sanji hissed, wiping one hand with the other and inspecting to see how much damage Zoro had done.

It was an instinctive measure of self-preservation. Good again. That would make the next half of this easier. Wordlessly, Zoro reached out to grab the front of Sanji's sweater, dragging him away from the door. He'd either come willingly, or he'd bitch and complain. Either way, the trance he was stuck in would be broken.

Snackman didn't disappoint. Actually, Zoro was surprised by how prepared he seemed to be for the minor assault on his person. His arms came up, crossed at the forearm, and knocked Zoro's hold away. Then he pressed both hands out, shoving the hockey player away with the heel of his palms. His feet hardly even moved from their base on the floor.

It was a little embarrassing, but Zoro could just maintain he let it happen if anyone ever brought it up. Rather than dwelling on what was obviously some sort of self defense class response to his direct approach, the hockey player reached out and took a hold of his shirt again, dragging Sanji forward in a fast snap so they were nose to nose. Eye to eye.

If Sanji was anticipating the first grab, the second had taken him by surprise. He fell bodily into Zoro, almost relying on him to keep them both upright. The embarrassment was on Sanji then, and Zoro couldn't help the subtle pleased grin that tickled his lips.

Instead of backing down, Sanji met the glare full on. If looks could kill, those blue eyes would need to be registered as lethal weapons. It was unexpected and, if Zoro was to be honest, a little intoxicating. It was almost enough to throw him off his game. Almost.

"There's no smoking inside a hospital," Zoro said. Then he just let go of Sanji's shirt, and walked away. Usopp and Chopper were scolding him, already running over to make sure Sanji was alright, while Luffy just looked on in curiosity.

They didn't get it.

Sanji had gone outside for a cigarette at least five times the night before. Zoro reeked of smoke just from sleeping next to the blond. It was stunning to think that someone who smoked that much could even compete in a sport, let alone at an Olympic level, but there it was. Sanji was addicted to cigarettes.

And he hadn't had one in hours. Not even a morning puff before hearing word that his mentor was in the hospital. Sanji was going to crack. The cups of coffee weren't going to do to stop it. He was going to shatter. But maybe if he reminded Sanji about his vice—maybe if he added a touch of normalcy to the incredibly overwhelming situation—he would break more slowly, and into more manageable pieces.

Sanji was already outside by the time Zoro arrived, and for the life of him Zoro couldn't figure out how that happened. He must have known a short cut. One that probably didn't involve somehow ending up in a janitor's closet like Zoro's short cut had.

It worked out, though. The blond had time for at least one whole cigarette alone with his thoughts, and was just lighting another. He narrowed his eyes at Zoro when Zoro leaned on the wall next to him, but didn't tell him to go away. The response to his presence was somewhere between 'Fuck off you asshole' and 'Thanks, I needed a break from being in there.'

"Done being an idiot?" Zoro asked, watching Sanji's squint intensify.

"You're such an asshole," Sanji replied. "Why are you even here?"

Zoro shrugged. "Not like I want to be here. Just got dragged along by my idiot captain."

"Well, nothing's stopping you from leaving."

That wasn't exactly true. He didn't have the keys to the van, and even if he did he probably would have gotten lost on the way back to the village. (Not that it would be his fault; GPS devices always told him the wrong directions, so he always ended up needing to find his own way.) Plus, he had little to no desire to wade through the massive press mob that was standing at the front door of the hospital.

There may have also been a small part of him that wanted to stick around to help Sanji accept this inevitability, but if there was it was very small. Hardly even noticeable at all. A drop in the sea of reasons that he was sticking around…

"Ch. Maybe I'm just curious to see how long it's going to take you to accept the fact that your friend is going to die."

Sanji went pale at that. Dangerously still. For a moment Zoro was worried he'd misread him. Sanji looked like he wanted to punch someone, and Zoro was more than willing to give him an excuse to lash out. It would do him good to get it out of his system after all.

But Sanji wasn't taking the bait. He looked like a child with an abusive parent who didn't understand why he'd just been smacked. There were even tears glistening in his eyes.

Tears, not blood.

He had misread the blond after all. It made Zoro feel just terrible about what he'd said, and he opened his mouth to apologise. He pushed off the wall to face Sanji, only to find himself reeling backwards from the force of a kick aimed directly at his cheekbone.

Well that was… That was an impressively high kick.

"Mother fucker!" Sanji hissed at Zoro.

Zoro straightened himself up and took a moment to appreciate the blond. He was a ball of tension and anger wound so tight that it looked like he might burst into flames at any moment. His cigarette was clenched tight enough between his fingers that he'd snuffed it out. His teeth were gritted, and he was crouched just a bit. He looked supremely pissed off, but it was also apparent that the kick had been therapeutic. He wanted to hit Zoro again.

"Asshole!" Zoro lifted a hand to brush at his face. When he pulled his fingers back, there was a trace of blood. "I'm bleeding!"

Sanji's expression held a clear 'good' to it. "You fucking deserve it."

"Didn't anyone ever teach you it's not polite to respond to words with violence?" If Zoro's words had had any chance of abashing Sanji's spirits, his actions killed that chance outright. Deciding it wouldn't be a cool thing to do to mess up Sanji's face before he was on international television, Zoro aimed a punch at Sanji's stomach.

It connected, but Sanji was already moving with his follow-through. Like they were in a choreographed dance, he turned and brought the back of his elbow down on the back of Zoro's neck. They traded blows like that for a good ten minutes, before Sanji finally stopped. He choked a sob, and fell sideways into the wall before sliding down it.

Hot, breathing hard, and sweating like it was triple overtime, Zoro forced himself to calm down. The fistfight portion of Sanji's breakdown was over, and it was onto phase two. Zoro leaned back against the opposite wall in the smoker's alcove before sliding down and joining Sanji in the fresh snow.

Sanji was gnawing on his lower lip, trying to force the tears away. Zoro doubted the tears were from any of his hits, but he still felt the need to ask, "You okay?"

Sanji stared at him. His eyes weren't narrowed anymore. They were big and round and searching for understanding. He was silent as he thought, but finally burst out a second sob and asked, "Why won't they just tell me anything?"

"Because it won't make a difference." Zoro sighed and stretched his leg out until their boots were touching. He tapped Sanji's foot to give him a physical connection to the real world.

Sanji closed his eyes and looked to the side. He looked slapped by Zoro's words again, but this time he was less angry, and more desperate. "How are you so sure she's not going to make it?"

Zoro frowned and looked down at his pant leg, flicking a bit of snow from his knee. "Because finding someone to translate 'Your friend is going to be just fine' would be easy. Finding a translator to tell you 'Your friend probably won't live through the night' is a lot harder. Plus, you're not family. They'd gladly give good news to a friend, but even if they found someone to act as a translator to deliver the bad news, they're going to need to tell her family first."

Sanji took a long time to digest Zoro's words. He was quiet for at least twenty minutes, and that suited Zoro just fine. Even then, he just shifted to light another cigarette. It took the full half hour before Sanji tipped his foot to knock it back against Zoro's. Three knocks, and then Sanji settled with their ankles hooked together.

Zoro decided the only possible meaning that could have was, 'Thank you for being here for me, even though you're a total stranger,' and so offered a grunt of indifference.

After another 10 minutes of quiet, Sanji asked softly, "Who did you lose?"

Zoro wasn't sure if he should answer, but decided it was only fair since they were all seeing him at his rawest. "My… foster sister."

Sanji exhaled a long line of smoke out of his nose. "You were close."

Zoro nodded immediately, and then said, "Yeah," after a beat.

Sanji nodded back, and then took another long drag. "Accident?"

Zoro shifted. The line of conversation was getting a little uncomfortable, but it was no more uncomfortable than telling a guy his friend was about to die just to instigate a fist fight. "Yeah. She… Uh, she fell off a ladder when we were little. She died pretty much immediately."

Sanji frowned. "Sorry."

"Yeah," Zoro said a third time. After an uncomfortable pause, he said, "Me too."

"Yeah," Sanji returned.

"I could be wrong, you know."

"I know." The conversation was getting uncomfortable until Sanji said, "Obviously, idiot. What do you even know about anything? Iva makes miracles happen. She's going to be fine."

Zoro doubted it, but decided to keep that thought to himself for once. "Are you always such an asshole."

"You just bring out the best in me, I guess… Shitty bastard."

"Up yours, curly-brow… Give me your tie so I can wipe up some of this blood from my cheek." Zoro leaned up on his knees, and reached forward to grab at Sanji's tie.

"What? No! Get your own damn tie, Moss-head!" Sanji yanked the tie away and bent his knees up to put them between Zoro and his clothing.

"Who are you calling a Moss-head?"

"Who else has a fungus growing from their head? You look like one of those Japanese moss balls things they put on the endangered species list…"

"Why do you even know that, idiot-curls?!" Zoro made a grab for Sanji's tie again. When he captured it, he wrapped it around his hand and dragged Sanji closer.

"What the Hell is 'Idiot-curls' supposed to mean?" Sanji lifted a leg and put the soul of one foot against Zoro's shoulder while he grabbed the front of his shirt with his opposite hand.

"Do you even own a mirror, Swirly-brow Snow Prince?"

It was about to get physical again when they were interrupted. A startled looking Usopp shoved into the smoking area and stopped short. Chopper was close enough on his heels that they bumped into each other, causing the smaller of the pair to fall backwards.

"THERE you are! Someone named Inazuma showed up and is demanding you be brought to in to see your friend."

Sanji nodded. He was completely casual about the fact that Zoro was climbing on his lap and they were each gripping the other's clothes. "I'll be right in." He looked at Zoro. "Get off, Marimo."

"Ch," was all Zoro replied, though he did let go of Sanji's tie and back off so he could get up.

"Zoro, what happened to you?" Chopper asked, suddenly very concerned for his friend. He bolted past Usopp and tugged Zoro's face to a level where he could get a better look.

Sanji took the opportunity to sneak back inside, and Zoro forced himself not to try to watch him go. Usopp was staring at him with suspicious eyes, and Zoro thought that if he didn't acknowledge the weirdness of how they'd been found Usopp would let it go. "Nothing. I guess I might have slipped on the ice or something."

"That's kind of a stupid move for a guy that lives at the rink…"

"…Shutup, Usopp," Zoro sighed with a complete lack of sting. He brushed Chopper's hands away and then walked inside too.

In the hall, Sanji was talking to a tall man with orange and white hair and a large scar on his cheek. Another man was with them. He had shorter hair with puffy hairclips, and was wearing enough makeup to stop a bullet. This other man had his arms wrapped around Sanji, and was nuzzling his tear-streaked face into the side of his neck. Something about the scene made Zoro feel something gross in the pit of his stomach. Something almost… jealous?

Casually, Zoro looked at Usopp. "Drive me back to the Village. I need dry clothes, and there's nothing else any of us can do here." He didn't wait for Usopp to respond before he started walking in the direction of where the parking garage had been when they came in. Sanji didn't need a bunch of strangers around when he had such clearly close friends to act as his support team, and Zoro could use a few extra hours of sleep. Without some idiot figure skater keeping him awake all night with his breathing and murmuring.

"Zoro wait! You're going the wr… Oh, that's actually the right way."

"Don't sound so surprised, asshole!" Zoro yelled back.

"What's wrong with Zoro?" Chopper asked Usopp softly.

"He's got a crush on Sanji," Usopp replied just as softly, though it was still loud enough for Zoro to hear.

"Whaaat?" Chopper asked as Zoro turned away from them down another hallway.

The sound of Usopp laughing at Chopper's surprise chased him down the hall. It was a stupid statement, and Chopper deserved to be laughed at for believing it. Who could possibly have a crush on that lovely-faced swirly-browed snow-idiot?


	5. Day three afternoon

Snow Ballet - Day Three, Afternoon (Modern AU One Piece fic) Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

It was weird.

Sanji was asleep.

That wasn't the weird thing. If anything, that was a really good thing. He'd been up for more than a day, and he was clearly exhausted. There were circles under his eyes—which were also a little too red for Nami's liking—and he kept resting his hands in comforting gestures on his ribs instead of resting them in his pockets, like he'd strained them but was too distracted to do anything about it.

The weird thing was how he had finally settled down in a pile with a few of the American hockey players on the floor. Luffy D Monkey and Zoro Roronoa, if she was remembering correctly. And she was pretty sure she was… Nami had more than a passing interest in remembering the faces of all of the richest—er, best—NHL players who would be around for the Olympics, and these two were distinctive. Monkey with his straw hat and that round scar under his eye, and Roronoa with his Asian features, marimo hair, and eyes so dark they looked almost black.

As though Roronoa could sense Nami thinking about them, those eyes snapped open and locked on to her. It was startling, and made her jump before realising that he had already resumed snoring.

"Creepy, isn't it?"

The voice came from someone sitting in the chairs like a normal person. Brown skin, massive hair, and the longest nose she'd ever seen. Usopp… Usopp something. Nami sat down beside him, wondering why there were so many hockey players camped out in the room. "Does he always do that?"

Usopp nodded, "Yep." They both looked back over to the monster trio.

Zoro was sat upright with his back against the wall. One arm was rested on a bent knee, and his other leg was straight out for anyone to trip over. Or to use as a pillow, as Sanji had seemingly decided to do. And if that wasn't cozy enough, the fingers of Zoro's other hand were splayed out and tucked up into Sanji's tousled hair.

And then there was Captain Straw Hat. He too was pressed back against the wall, but he was tucked into the space behind Sanji's knees. His legs were sprawled out, holding Sanji down even if he'd wanted to get up. His hand was on his hat, and his hat was rested over Sanji's hand on his chest.

Nami could get possessive, but these two looked like they were laying claim on her partner the way a sane person might stake claim to a giant bag of money.

The door to the waiting room opened as someone new entered. "Creepy," Usopp said again as Zoro shot a glare at the door, and then resumed sleeping.

Nami blinked and then turned her attention to him. "It's Usopp, right?"

Usopp looked surprised that she knew who he was. "Of course you've heard of me," he recovered, sitting up straighter. "Fastest skater on the team… In the world, really. First class sniper with no one else who even comes close to scoring the way I do."

"Yes, yes, yes," Nami said, brushing him off and trying to draw him back down from what she could only assume was hyperbole—if half of what he was claiming were true, he would have come up in her mark research. "How did this even happen?" she asked, waving to the three on the floor.

"Oh, uh…" Usopp pointed over at the blond in the middle. "Sanji was pacing back and forth, annoying everyone. But no one wanted to say anything to him because… Well, look at him. Then Zoro," Usopp changed his pointing to Roronoa. He paused then, as though deciding his next words, before saying, "Zoro got tired of watching him, so he grabbed him by the arm and made him sit. Then they both fell asleep."

Nami nodded, eyes narrowing as she considered the situation. Sanji was charming, and giving, and an excellent cook. Women had been taking advantage of him his entire life, but he was usually far more suspicious of the intentions of men. And yet, there he was, curled up with a pair of relative strangers like they'd known each other for years. "And Monkey?"

"Luffy?" Usopp laughed suddenly. "Luffy is like a cat. When he's done eating and playing for the day, he'll sprawl out and fall asleep on top of the closest warm object. Usually one or more of his teammates."

That was good intel. Nami nodded, satisfied with the information. She sat back in her chair and pursed her lips. She was intending to have Sanji take her to dinner, but she didn't want to wake him. Dilemma.

"Are you…" Usopp started to ask, but trailed off.

Nami looked back over at him. "Am I what?"

"Are you and Sanji an item?"

It was rare that someone actually managed to make Nami blush. And yet? There she was.

They got asked that all the time by reporters, but she never answered the question. Sanji would always field it, either by outright denying and taking offense on Nami's behalf, or by professing his undying love for all the world to hear. And since it would do her no benefit to correct him on either case, she just let him say what he wanted.

But this wasn't a reporter, and Nami got the impression this was a leading question, so she decided to answer honestly. "Sanji-kun? No. No no no no. He's like my little brother. My overly obsessive, very perverted little brother." She laughed.

"Perverted?"

Nami considered. "You know how most teenage boys are always thinking about things like breasts and sex? Well, Sanji-kun never grew out of that phase."

Usopp seemed almost disappointed. "So, he likes breasts—er—women then."

Oh. That stereotype. "Yes, he likes women," Nami snapped back, not bothering to hide the sting in her tone. 'Are you and Nami fucking?' 'No? What are you gay?' Always the same questions. What, was Usopp looking for some gossip to put on his blog?

Usopp had a genuine look of fear on his face. It calmed Nami down a bit. Apparently it had been an innocent question after all. "Yes, Sanji likes women."

"You're sure?"

Did she not sound sure?

Nami took a mental step back, trying to see what Usopp was asking about. Was he interested in Sanji? No, he was wearing a wedding ring. Who then? Nami's eyes drifted back over to the three on the floor. Based on Usopp's description of Monkey, Nami figured he wasn't talking about him. A thought that made Nami consider Roronoa even more closely.

Roronoa looked like he was trying too hard to be casual. His body was carefully breezy, except for that hand in Sanji's hair. And even in his sleep, he was gently stroking. Wait, was Roronoa gay? That really should have come up in her research. "Wait, does Roronoa?"

Usopp blanched, and Nami knew she'd guessed right. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Is Roronoa gay?"

Usopp appeared to make a decision on being able to trust her. He leaned forward, until their heads were almost touching. His voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "I've never seen him with a boy. But I've also never seen him with a girl. What about Sanji?"

Oh my God. "Same!" Nami exclaimed, and then repeated more quietly, "Same. He talks about girls all the time, but any time one of them gets close to him, he finds some reason for it not to work out. I once saw him refuse to sleep with a girl who was just throwing herself at him because he'd planned on baking cookies with his father that night."

Usopp looked encouraged. "Zoro's acting weird… He keeps insisting that Sanji is an idiot and I'm pretty sure they got in a fist fight earlier." Roronoa's face was bruised, and it made Nami think about the way Sanji was holding his ribs earlier. "But look at them now!"

Actions always spoke louder than words. Sanji shifted in his sleep—that way he did when he was getting close to waking up—and nuzzled against Roronoa's thigh. "Oh my God, they would make such a handsome couple."

There was a minor spasm that rolled through Usopp. It was like the physical representation of 'I know right?!' "They really would!" Usopp hissed back in agreement.

"Do they even realise it?" A third voice entered the conversation, causing Nami and Usopp to both jolt straight in their seats. Sanji's roommate was standing beside the pair of them, freckled face passive as he watched the sleeping pair.

At Ace's shoulder stood the Phoenix player, Marco. "Doubtful," he said casually, and then took a bite of his burger.

Usopp looked mortified, but Nami jumped up and suddenly burst out with, "What is this, the club house for the entire NHL?! And who even told you you could listen in on our conversation? That's rude, you know!"

She was so distracted by her embarrassment and her efforts to disguise it as being affronted that she didn't notice Sanji move. He was just suddenly at her side, hardly awake, but completely alert to the fact that something was upsetting her. "What did you say to Nami-san, asshole?"

He'd stepped into the space in front of Nami, which was good because it gave Nami room to retreat back a step. She exchanged a glance with Usopp, but neither of them knew how to get out of the situation cleanly.

Luckily, Ace knew perfectly well how to defuse. "Nothing, nothing," he said, and laid a hand on Sanji's raised fist. "We were talking about how some people react to the press asking stupid questions." Ace pushed Sanji's fist back down, and turned his attention to his brother before Sanji had time to reply. "Oi, Luffy! The cafeteria has meatloaf!"

"Meatloaf?! That sounds amazing!" Luffy jumped up to his feet, suddenly completely awake. "I want meat!" Then he did the weirdest thing. He walked happily over to their small group and put that straw hat on Sanji's head before he gave the blond his most serious look. He apparently didn't feel the need to explain himself before starting a dancing march towards the exit. "Meat, meat, meatloaf," he sang as he went.

"That kid is messed up," Sanji murmured. His hands had begun to pat himself down in search of his cigarettes. He didn't bother to remove the hat from his head.

"Yeah," Ace agreed with a laugh before he and Marco followed Luffy out of the room.

Nami looked back at Usopp, but Usopp was watching Zoro again. Zoro, who was watching Sanji. Sanji, who apparently had no clue that anyone was watching anyone.

"How long until your skate?"

"Only a few hours," Nami confirmed. "I came to see if you wanted to get something to eat…" she started. She still hadn't figured out how to convince Sanji to leave the hospital. He needed real rest, and real food, and a real shower.

Sanji seemed crestfallen as he searched for a way to say no to Nami. He had a hard time denying Nami anything she wanted, but most especially his company. "Nami-san," he started, but Nami cut him off with a hand on his arm.

She was about to start talking, just to see what she could come up with on the fly, but someone burst into the room and made everyone look up and take notice.

Nami once wondered how Inazuma managed to dye his hair completely down the centre like that. She wondered if his hair was actually red, or if it was white, since both colours were hard to maintain. But eventually she decided the best possible answer was 'both'. It was the best possible way to describe everything about Inazuma, actually.

Just then, Inazuma was dressed as a woman. Her clothing was tight, and her breasts—real or fake, Nami had no idea—were almost causing a gap in the button up blouse she was poured into. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, and she looked like she had something important to say.

"Iva…" she started, and in front of Nami, Sanji began to sink. He was bracing himself for bad news. Inazuma noticed it too, and blurted suddenly, "Iva is awake."

Nami thought Sanji was going to fall over. When he recovered, he shot an almost smug look over at Roronoa—what was that about?—before righting himself. He had so many questions, you could just see them bubbling on the surface. But Inazuma held up a hand to stop them. "He wants to see you," she said.

"Wait, 'He'?" Zoro asked.

Inazuma rolled her eyes. "You people and your obsession with pronouns…"

Zoro balked, blushed, and then made a soft, "Tsh," noise.

"Room 720, Sanji, dear." Inazuma smiled at Sanji, and pressed a hand against his shoulder to urge him into leaving.

Sanji broke his glare and turned to run as fast up the hall as he could without being yelled at. Inazuma was moving to follow, but Zoro spoke up before she left the room.

"Oi. Is she really going to be alright?"

There was something off in the way Inazuma paused before saying, "He's awake. I never thought I'd hear his voice again, but he's awake." The doors shutting behind her cut off any follow up questions.

After a moment to consider what he'd been told Zoro said, "Hn," to no one in particular. Then he bent to retrieve a lighter that had fallen out of Sanji's pocket when they were all asleep. He slipped it into his own, and casually walked out of the room in the other direction. His face was cut with a frown.

Nami looked back at Usopp. The sniper was still sat back in the same chair, just watching everything. "I don't get it," Nami said. "Iva being awake is good news… So then why does it feel like everything just got a little bit worse?"

Usopp frowned and shrugged. He didn't know either, but Nami could tell that he felt it too.


	6. Day three evening

Snow Ballet - Day Three, Evening (Modern AU One Piece fic) Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

The ceiling in Ace and Sanji's bedroom had been painted with a spray machine. It was so perfect. If the painters had used a brush, there would be evidence in the finish from the hairs of the brush. If they'd used a roller, the finish would have streaks from where paint pooled on the edge of the roller. Sanji knew this from that time he and Zeff painted the restaurant together. Stupid old man wouldn't let him use a sprayer because he was 'just a kid' so Sanji's areas tended to show more evidence of him being there.

Sanji was laid on his mattress staring aimlessly above him. The sun was going down, and the light through the blinds was orange. It cast long slatted shadows across the ceiling as it traveled.

Sanji was… depressed. He felt numb and empty. A huge part of him wished the shitty old man was there to kick his ass back to sanity. But Zeff was back in Ottawa in his shitty restaurant watching Nami skate on the shitty little TV in the back of his shitty office. Lacking Zeff, and with Nami busy, Sanji decided to hide away in solitude. Left alone to contemplate the absurdity of mortality. A shame Robin couldn't be there to at least make it a beautiful morbid solitude.

An insistent knock broke Sanji's concentration. He turned his head to look at the door and was surprised to see a back-lit silhouette. "What the fuck are you doing in my room again, Marimo?"

"Tsh," Zoro replied, stepping forward and shutting the door behind him.

Sanji sat up as Zoro crossed to his bedside. Zoro was just standing there, watching his face. It made Sanji a little uncomfortable. "What?"

Zoro shifted ever so slightly. "I've been talking to you for a good five minutes," he said softly. And there was almost concern in his voice.

Sanji didn't know why, but that concern was more disarming than any of the insults they'd been slinging at each other. "Ts, that doesn't answer my question."

Zoro nodded—apparently agreeing with Sanji's assessment of the exchange—and then had the nerve to just sit right down on Sanji's bed, as though Sanji had invited him. All Sanji had done was sit up, pull his legs back, and then move a pillow in a way that incidentally left room for the larger man. What made that an open invitation?

"You didn't answer mine," Zoro had the nerve to reply.

Zoro hadn't even asked a question. Had he? Sanji didn't notice Zoro right away, so he very well could have. Not like Sanji was going to admit to that, though. He pressed his lips together and set his body language to purposefully antagonistic. Sanji imagined it was how a porcupine felt. Like, 'Don't come near me, or I will fucking PRICK you.'

If Zoro was smart enough to notice, he chose not to react. "Oi," he said, and made himself comfortable leaning back against the wall. "Everyone out there thinks you're asleep in here."

Zoro was quiet while he waited for Sanji's reaction to his statement, so Sanji remained quiet, too. If Zoro had a question in there, he would have to get around to actually asking it.

It was Zoro who lost the contest of silent wills, choosing to expand by saying, "You seem pretty messed up for someone whose friend just woke up from a coma… If I was that guy, I'd take it personally."

Sanji glared at Zoro. Like he knew anything about anyone ever.

Sanji would have kept up the glare if it wasn't for how the Marimo's stupid face grew more and more concerned the longer Sanji looked at him. It forced Sanji's gaze back down and away. It pressured him to back away from his own guard.

Which was how Zoro managed to sneak a hand through his porcupine perimeter, resting it on Sanji's shoulder, and squeezing solidly.

The chances of Sanji getting pissed and knocking the hand away, or allowing it to remain in comforting silence were about 50/50. Zoro lucked out, and Sanji' sighed in resignation. He didn't have the energy to argue anyway.

"Oi…" Zoro said again. He seemed to like saying it when he couldn't think of anything else to say. "What did your friend say to you when you talked to her?"

Sanji was quiet for a long beat, unsure himself of how to answer that question. "Some fucking Tennyson bullshit that no one's buying," he finally whispered, not caring if Zoro got the reference or not.

Zoro seemed at the least surprised by the statement. If that was because of the vulgarity or some level of understanding, it wasn't obvious. He did pose an intelligent follow up for clarification. "What did the doctors say?"

It was a quiet ask. Sanji was sure that Zoro knew the answer to that question. "The doctors said… Sometimes a person in a coma will wake up, and they'll seem completely fine, but then their heart will just give out. And Iva's heart has always had problems…" Sanji barked out a noise that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. "It's actually, literally, too big."

Zoro's hand was just suddenly on the side of Sanji's face. Or maybe it had been a slow transition that Sanji hadn't noticed. Either way, it shocked Sanji enough that he gasped and went still. A calloused thumb swept across the wet smear tracing its way down his cheek, brushing the single tear away.

Any other time with any other person, and it would have been almost romantic. The way that Zoro didn't linger longer than necessary to show his genuine concern was perfect. It was like he knew exactly how much comfort Sanji would allow before he got uncomfortable or embarrassed.

It was almost as good as having the shitty old man there to kick him into shape. Maybe Zoro wasn't so bad afterall…

For the first time since Sanji learned Iva was probably going to die, Sanji felt supported by someone who cared about him. Sanji had been comforting Bentham and Inazuma all afternoon, while Iva herself did her best to make them all see the bright side of it all. Celebrate the life, don't mourn the loss. But it was damn hard not to not think of how empty he was going to be once she was gone from his world.

"Do you know how long she has?"

Sanji shrugged uncomfortably. "Could be at any minute," he breathed. "Could be a year."

"So, then, just like it is for everyone else."

Sanji blinked like he'd been smacked. "What?"

Zoro shrugged like the insufferable aloof prick that he was. "She's alive now, but could be dead at any minute. Just like the rest of us."

Okay, now he was sounding like Robin. But he wasn't actually Robin, so Sanji had no problem asking, "What the actual fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it, asshole. It would suck to know when you were going to die. What's the point of living if every moment isn't filled with that sort of uncertainty. There's freedom in not knowing." He'd stood up while talking, like he was leaving space for a speedy exit if he needed to make one.

Sanji should have been pissed, but he found himself slowly nodding with Zoro's explanation. It was true; if you knew when you were supposed to die, that would take most of the spontaneity out of life. Growing up with acromegaly, Iva would have been fighting against that her entire life. The older she got, the closer she got to the end she always knew was coming. Everything was pre-decided thanks to her condition.

The fact that the doctors couldn't pinpoint how much time she had left? It was a blessing of uncertainty.

"You're… not… an awful person, you know that?" Sanji slowly looked up to Zoro's face.

"Tsch," Zoro spat back, crossing his arms and looking away from Sanji. "That doesn't mean much coming from an idiot like you…"

Asshole. Sanji threw his pillow at Zoro, and then pressed up to jump out of bed. He would have followed with a kick if Zoro hadn't been right. Sanji was being an idiot, sulking about when he should have been celebrating the good news. Iva was alive. No one knew if she would be alive in a week, but she hadn't gotten rid of the rest of them just yet. And Sanji knew exactly how to celebrate.

Without waiting for a comment from Zoro, he grabbed his red wool coat, shoved his feet into his boots, and ran for the door. He needed to track down Bon and Inazuma. There were plans that needed to be made.


	7. Day four morning

Snow Ballet - Day Four, Morning (Modern AU One Piece fic) Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

By the time Sanji returned to his room, the sun was starting to come up. He wasn't tired though. If anything, he was completely content. Seemingly at peace with the world. He was even humming a little as he hipped open his door.

That stopped fast however, when he nearly toppled into someone he'd never met. Just how many friends did Ace and Marco have? At least these new ones were kind enough to be wearing hockey jerseys with their names on them.

With a bright smile, the new blond caught him before he could trip completely. "Hey, sorry about that," said the American, 'Kane,' actually looking embarrassed.

Before Sanji could reply, a loud voice from across the room called out, "Heeeey Saaanjiii!" Sanji looked up to see Luffy sitting cross-legged on an end table, and waving at him like they were best friends looking for each other during a concert.

"Now we have enough!" Luffy exclaimed, laughing. He put his hands proudly on his hips, and look as happy as a pig in slop.

Before Sanji could find out 'enough what for what', someone else in the room was saying, "He's not a hockey player, though, is he?" This one was in a Canadian jersey. He had big, serious, brown eyes, and watched Sanji like a hawk for the way he stood next to 'Kane'.

It made Sanji feel a little uncomfortable, so he stepped to the side and removed his jacket.

"Sanji's the best! I'm sure he's a great hockey player!" Luffy was grinning at him like an idiot. Endearing little shit.

"Hockey?" Sanji asked as someone with 'Sharp' on the back of his shirt slid past him with a little nod to excuse himself on the way to the bathroom.

Sharp, Kane, that other one that was talking was Toews, and on the sofa next to Luffy with the fire orange hair was 'Keith'. Oh, hey, Keith. Sanji actually met him before when he was in Ottawa.

Sanji gave him a small smile of recognition and Keith nodded back. But the important question remained: "Ace, why is the better half of Chicago here?"

"We're going to play a pickup game," Ace said softly. "But we're one player short." Ace held up a jersey that didn't belong to either nation represented in the room. It was black and white with a Blackhawks logo on the front, and had 88 on the arm.

"He probably doesn't even have any skates."

"I have skates!" Sanji chewed back at whoever had accused him of coming to Sochi without skates.

"Yea, figure skates."

Moss brain was back. And lingering in the doorway of his room again, which made Sanji narrow his eyes at him. What was that guy's obsession with invading his personal space?

"No offense meant," Toews gave Sanji a grim, apologetic smile, "But I wouldn't feel comfortable putting a figure skater out on the ice where he's going to get hit by…" He trailed off as he gestured to Keith and Zoro.

Keith started chuckling at his captain, and ducked his head a little. "Oh, he can take hits… I've never seen Red Leg hit someone as hard as he hit this guy."

"Shutup Duncs," Sanji snapped.

"This guy?" Toews seemed surprised.

"Yeah, why is that so hard to believe?" Sanji was starting to get offended.

"Red Leg?" Luffy seemed suddenly even more interested than he had been before. "That's so cool! Sanji you're on our team."

"Who even said I'm playing?!"

"Who are you trading?!" Zoro asked. He wasn't worried or offended, just a little irritated that Luffy had forgotten it was the Canadian team that was short.

"How does this guy know Red Leg?" Sharp asked.

"Zeff is Sanji's father."

Ace's comment silenced everyone in the room. They were suddenly all staring at Sanji. It was very uncomfortable, and he really didn't want to talk about it. Especially since the next question always came…

"Wait, if you're Red Leg Zeff's son, how did you end up a figure skater instead of a hockey player?"

Sanji didn't even know who asked it. He just sighed in frustration and headed for his bedroom. Zoro stepped aside for him to pass by, an act for which Sanji was grateful.

"Not all children share the dream of their parents," Zoro said softly, making Sanji stop in surprise right next to him. "Some of us actually set out to make dreams of their own."

Sanji looked over at Zoro. He studied his face and looked into his eyes. Zoro understood him, and that was… Well, it was really weird, actually. No one ever just got him like that. The way he'd spoken up for him, Sanji was actually a little touched. Until Zoro went and ruined it.

"And some people are just too weak to keep up with us." Zoro looked away, arms crossed and leaning casually against the edge of the door frame.

"What did you say, Casual Asshole?" Sanji hissed, fists balling.

"You heard me, Snow Ballerina. Or is your hearing weak too?"

"Moldy Fruit Cups shouldn't talk about things they don't understand," Sanji spat back.

"Who are you calling a fruit cup, Dartboard?"

"That doesn't even make sense!" Sanji and Zoro were leaning closer into each other, gritting their teeth and preparing to come to blows.

It was the weirdest thing… Sanji wasn't even that offended. He actually liked the imagery of a snow ballerina. It somewhat suited him. Not that he'd admit it.

"Whoever had you on their team would be playing with a distinct disadvantage," Zoro said, his eyes narrowing as he laid down the gauntlet.

Sanji glared at Zoro, ready to strike or snap back with words that would hurt more than a whip strike from a lion tamer. Instead, he reached out a hand, never breaking eye contact, and said, "Give me the damn jersey."

Keith and Monkey actually whooped out, raising their arms in victory. Ace was grinning. He looked over at the rest of the Canadians and said, "Go get the cars."

When Sanji was finished sliding his head through the hole in the jersey, the room was just about empty, and he was already being pushed out the door by Ace. He felt a little played. "Skates?"

"Got'em," Keith set the skates over Sanji's shoulder, hanging by the laces, and then pressed his grey hoodie into his waiting hands. "You know you just got played, right?"

"Shutup, Duncs."

Keith grinned at him and ran to catch up with the rest of the Blackhawks, while Ace and Marco took up a spot on either side of him. It was possible they were making certain he wouldn't change his mind. "Now we just have to find the lake," Ace said with a smile.

He'd agreed to play 5 on 5 with the best North American players in the NHL. Sochi was a weird place.

It was also a warm place.

Warm enough that they didn't need their coats, or even their hideous sweaters. There were palm trees that swayed in the gentle breeze coming up off the Black Sea. It might have been the middle of winter in Russia, but for those used to actual weather they may as well have been in California.

Just where did these morons expect to find a frozen lake?

Franky, Chopper, and the Blackhawks took off in one van, leaving 'Everyone most likely to fall asleep' to ride with Usopp and Luffy. True to form, the narcoleptic Ace and weak-minded Zoro were completely out before they'd even gotten out of the parking lot. Next one to go out was Marco, lounged over Ace in his lap at the back of the van.

Sanji had tried to listen to the stories Usopp told as he drove—Luffy in the passenger seat seemed enthralled by them—but they were all just so outlandish and unbelievable, and Sanji hadn't had much sleep the days before. That was the excuse for how he ended up cuddled comfortably into Zoro's warm side for the second time in as many days.

The radio had called the temperature as 4 degrees, and that wasn't nearly enough to keep a lake frozen. Which was why Sanji was utterly confused as he shut the car door. "Where are we?" he asked, walking down a path towards a wide frozen lake. Clearly it wasn't Sochi.

"In the mountains," the Marimo replied, stretching and scratching his stomach. "Obviously." He stepped past him carrying a few hockey sticks and looking well rested and happy.

The sun was almost overhead, making the section of ice where someone had shoveled out a rink sized patch sparkle in its light. Surrounded by the natural beauty, Zoro looked like he belonged. It made Sanji feel weirdly out of place, and a frown played on his lips. He really the black sheep of this lot, wasn't he? He even had Kane's jersey to prove it.

When Sanji didn't snap back at him immediately, Zoro turned and looked back at him with a gaze that resembled concern. "Oi…"

"What?"

"What's that look for?"

Sanji blinked. "What look?"

"Oh, sorry, that's just your regular stupid look…" Zoro seemed far too proud of himself for that comment. He smiled smugly and hurried to get down to the ice.

"Asshole," Sanji grumbled. He pulled out a cigarette and his substitute lighter—no idea where his normal one had gone to—before continuing down the path with the others.

It didn't take long for all of them to change into their skates. Zoro and Luffy were first on the ice, followed by Ace and Kane. Each pair had a puck and was firing passes back and forth with such heat that it looked like they were trying to break their sticks. Usopp, Sharp, Keith, and Franky were talking about something 'Super' while Marco and Chopper were chatting about something called 'Guard point'.

Sanji watched them all while he smoked.

Marco's helmet was a work of art. He'd taken the 'Phoenix' theme and run with it, except that the colours were all blues and purples and whites instead of reds and oranges and yellows. It was quite stunning to see up close. Must have cost a small fortune to have done.

Chopper's helmet was a lot more earthy. Instead of anything representing his NHL team, he had a blue-nosed reindeer with antlers curled out and around with stars and stripes worked into the mix. Marco's helmet was one of his standards, while Chopper's seemed to have been designed specifically for the games.

That made sense, Sanji considered, since Chopper didn't always play goal. He was the versatile sort who could be a demon on the wings or a star in the net.

Sanji had forgotten about Toews until the quiet centre had cleared his throat next to Sanji. "You really as good as Duncs says you are?"

Sanji smiled a little. "He never actually said I was any good. He just said I can take a hit… Me and Zeff fighting with each other has nothing to do with playing hockey."

Toews frowned. His eyes flicked to the cigarette hanging from Sanji's lips before moving back up. He seemed concerned. More concerned than someone should be for a simple pickup game.

When Toews didn't ask the question that was clearly on his mind, Sanji explained how he knew Duncan Keith. "I got involved in a bar fight Duncs and Seabs were having one time. We spent the night in jail before the shitty old man came and bailed us out…"

He and Zeff got in a fight in the parking lot before heading home. It'd been epic in its violence, even for them. Sanji didn't mention that part because most people tended to just picture Zeff as abusive when he did, and it pissed him off.

Something seemed to click in Toews' mind at that. "You're the guy in the three piece suit?"

Sanji smiled. "Not currently, but that does usually describe me, yes."

"Black-Leg?"

"…Yes." Though it had been a long time since anyone had called him that.

"Hunh." Toews turned his attention thoughtfully to the ice while Sanji sat down on a log to tie his skates. "Duncs said you didn't even use your arms…"

Sanji shrugged. "If I damage my hands, I won't be able to cook anymore."

Toews was confused, "But if you break your legs, you won't be able to skate."

Sanji shrugged. "There are more important things in life than skating."

Toews scoffed in a way that said clearly he disagreed, but didn't verbalise it. Jonathan Toews was very used to people not loving hockey as much as him. "Duncs said that you broke a guy's nose while someone else was holding you by the throat, and then you broke that guy's arm."

Sanji took a long drag on his cigarette before snuffing it out. He made a little ashtray in the snow where he could collect his butts from later. No need to litter. After a moment's consideration, he said, "I hate losing almost as much as you do."

Toews watched him, considering.

A snowball to the side of his head broke his concentration, and he looked up to see Kane and Luffy laughing so hard that they had to hold onto each other to stay upright. "Good, because we're going to destroy them." Toews said before hopping down on the ice like he was born on it.

The ice was surprisingly flawless for a frozen lake. There weren't many crack marks from it being frozen, partly thawed, and refrozen, which meant that it had probably been solid all winter. It was bumpy, though, which also meant that at some point there was a layer of water sitting on the ice before a cold wind froze it. Probably a rain storm for how warm Russia seemed to be.

Watching the skaters from farther south get used to it was almost entertaining. Chopper seemed the most comfortable, whereas Usopp hardly looked like he'd be able to stand, let alone skate. Sanji felt a little guilty the first time he took the dark skinned man down, and offered him a hand up in apology.

And he'd thought Team Canada was weak on defense.

After that, it was like the Marimo had put a heat seeker on Sanji. He could hardly move without the green haired man getting in his way. And if that wasn't frustrating enough, Sanji could tell he was holding back. Like he thought Sanji was some breakable thing that needed to be coddled. It was insulting.

Even if it was a little true.

There was sweat dripping down his face, and he was breathing harder than anyone else there. These were, after all, Olympic level hockey players, and Sanji was simply not in their league.

"Maybe if you gave up smoking, you'd be able to handle a simple hockey game," Zoro said as they crouched together during a faceoff.

Asshole. "Maybe if you weren't such a shitty payer, you'd be able to get the puck away from an amateur…" Sanji smacked his stick on the ice twice, signaling he wanted the puck, and he wasn't disappointed. Ace won the draw, dropped it back to Toews, and then Toews fired a hard shot directly at the blade of Sanji's stick. It hit so hard that Sanji's hands burned through his mittens, but he didn't flinch.

Zoro had him playing his game—hitting and brute force—but Sanji was starting to realise his mistake. Instead of sticking around or setting a block so someone else could take the puck to the net, Sanji started to move. They might be better hockey players on the whole, but there wasn't a one of them who could match his footwork and agility.

Shooting the puck between Zoro's legs, Sanji used the blade of the American's own skate to deflect a pass back to himself. He rolled around the wide body before picking the puck back up and starting up the ice. He heard Toews check Zoro behind him as he moved, and grinned knowing that there was no one else who was closes enough to stop him.

Franky and Keith were tangled, and the pair of snipers were both pulling themselves up out of the snow where they'd been knocked. Ace was right with him on the move, and the pair flew up the ice towards Chopper in a two on one breakaway. Sanji pulled back to fire off a pass to the captain, but Luffy was just suddenly on top of Ace—Where had he even come from, the other side of the ice?—and the pair were laid out.

Nothing to be done for it. A small adjustment, and Sanji fired the puck towards Chopper instead. It bounced off the side of the reindeer helmet before hitting the crossbar and landing safely in the net. Sanji stopped just short of Chopper's crease and with a pointed look to Zoro, he pulled out a cigarette. After a long drag, Sanji slipped his lighter back in his pocket and said, "1-0."

"Ch. Are you going to play with that hanging out of your mouth now?" Zoro was shoving Toews away.

Sanji shrugged and retrieved the puck before flipping it over to Zoro at centre ice. "Was thinking I just might." Okay, so maybe he was being smug, but Zoro deserved it for trying to tell him how to live his own life. Plus, the captain of both the US and Canadian Olympic hockey teams were smiling at him, so he decided he was well within his rights.

Another faceoff win for Team Canada. They were spending a lot of time in the American zone. Which was probably why Zoro decided to stop holding back. There was a flash of green speeding towards him, and Sanji knew he was about to be run over.

"Hogeh!" Sanji went down flat on his back, his breath suddenly stolen from him by the impact. A moment later, Usopp scored the first goal for the Americans.

Luffy won the next faceoff and sent the puck back to Kane, but Keith was there to run interference. They knew better than to let Kane have the puck.

A poke check, and the puck slid easily into Toews' control. Toews made a long pass to Sanji who slowed down to let everyone get into place. Out of the corner of his eye, Sanji saw that flash of green again. Not this time…

Sanji had enough time to pass the puck away to Sharp in front of the net before dropping into a low crouch. He came back up just as Zoro rolled into him, executing a fairly perfect hip check. Zoro hit the ice so hard that Sanji was convinced he heard something break.

He didn't have time to think about it as a whoop from Sharp signaled that the blackhawk had scored, and a happy Ace was ploughing into him for a big celebratory hug. He probably would have fallen over too if Ace wasn't holding him up. He was laughing so hard that Sanji couldn't help himself but to join in.

Sanji looked over to where Zoro was scraping himself up to a kneeling position. "2-1," he said with a grin that made Zoro haul off and punch the ice with both fists.

When asked about the incident later, no one would believe that Zoro had broken the ice with nothing but his fists. They would talk about the changes in the weather, and air pockets, and stress fractures, and all sorts of other science to back up what had been inevitable from the start.

But for everyone who was there, it was clearly Zoro's punch that had done it.

It started as a creaking noise that was so low it was almost indiscernible from the wind. Then the noise spread over the ice like electricity. It rolled up and bounced off the mountains, echoing long enough that every single player on the ice went still.

Frozen lakes make noise. Scary noises that make you think that they're going to give out on you at any moment. Any person who'd ever gone out on a lake knew that. Which was probably why Marco asked, "That's just normal creaking, right?" His voice was a whisper. They all wanted it to be true.

Zoro was still on his hands and knees a few meters away from where Ace and Sanji were frozen in each other's arms. Under his fist, the pair of them could clearly make out a long crack that was splitting the ice and making its way towards the shore.

Sanji was dumbstruck, flashing back very suddenly to the way his parents had died. He felt cold everywhere, and was grateful for Ace's arms around him. "Ev… Everybody off the ice. Now!" As far as Sanji could tell, everyone was listening, but he didn't really have time to check. "Zoro, you need to get flat."

"What?"

"Spread out your weight and lay flat on the ice. It won't break as fast," Ace agreed. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who attended boy scouts in a cold climate. "Use your stick. We'll pull you to safety."

Zoro seemed uncertain of what they were telling him. He lingered just a little too long deciding what to do, and was rewarded for his skepticism by another long spider crack under his hand. It startled him enough that he pulled back up to his knees instead of lying flat.

Sanji and Ace knew what was about to happen only microseconds before it did. The shifting of Zoro's weight into a more fixed point threw the balance off, and the ice crumpled under Zoro's knees. It happened so fast that he hardly made a noise before sliding in under the water and disappearing.

There was a moment of stunned silence.

And then everyone was making noise.

Luffy was rushing back out on the ice and Ace had left Sanji's side to yell at him to stay put since neither of them knew how to swim (So he couldn't jump in after Luffy if he fell in too). Sharp was on the phone with presumably emergency services. Usopp and Chopper were yelling in distress. Franky was actually crying. Toews and Marco were keeping calm heads, quickly removing their skates and gear at the edge of the lake, and Keith was attempting to get up the path to the cars with his skates still on.

Sanji watched it all in slow motion before looking back to the hole. He could hear the ice still cracking, and knew that he wasn't safe where he was, but he couldn't do anything about it. Shock froze him in place. Zoro hadn't come back up.

That made sense. Most people thought that when you fell into a lake like that, you could just swim back up to the hole you fell through, but it wasn't like that at all.

When you fall into a frozen lake, the cold washes over you like it's running through your veins. Up becomes down and right becomes left. Even if it happens in the middle of the day, everything is dark. The chances of finding the same hole you fall through are slim at best. And even if you are lucky enough to find your hole, you have to get to it. By the time you see the light, the cold has already taken your legs from you. Your arms are dead weight. You can't breathe, and you can't move. You sink, staring at light from inside the darkness. You know you're going to die far too long before it happens. It's a horrible way to die.

"Sanji, what the Hell are you doing?!"

Marco's question was the only thing that made Sanji realise he was moving. "He's lost," Sanji breathed, as if that explained it all. "Bring rope!" he added, much louder. Then he took a long breath and jumped into the water himself.

It was cold in the water. Obviously. He felt like an idiot for thinking it. Sanji's skates dragged him down deeper than he'd been intending to go, forcing him to adjust.

Despite what he was facing, the cook remained calm. He knew that it was possible to live through this sort of thing from very personal experience, but he also knew if he panicked he would lose his bearings, and they would both be dead.

It hurt to open his eyes under the water, but he needed to see. Zoro's jersey was navy blue, which was absolutely zero help. Sanji wasn't going to be able to pick that out in the void, but he could try looking for Zoro's face, or his number. Something contrasting the darkness.

His feet touched the bottom of the lake, toe picks scraping against a large rock, but Sanji hardly felt it. He didn't have much time left before he'd be forced to re-surface.

He refused to let that happen empty handed.

Working on instinct, Sanji began to move in one direction. He reached out with the hockey stick he had yet to let go of, and used it to search for Zoro. His lungs burned with the effort of holding in his breath. If he'd had the air to scream, he would have.

Just as he was about to give up, Sanji saw a reflection. Light bounced off something small and metal where it lay in the sand. Or, near the sand.

Zoro's stupid earrings.

With all the strength his legs possessed, Sanji forced himself towards that glimmer of light. As he got closer, Sanji could see his stupid hair and his stupid face. He was so still, floating along with the almost imperceptible lake current.

The relief Sanji felt at wrapping his arms around the Marimo almost pushed the cold out of his body completely. Either that, or hypothermia was setting in. Teeth grit, Sanji turned and began to make his way back to the window above.

Ice was a tricky bitch, though. Just when you thought you were making for an opening, you banged your head on a cold, clear roof. Sanji began to grind his teeth in frustration. Zoro was still so motionless. And Sanji was almost out of air… It was about time to panic, until something bright caught Sanji's attention.

Someone—Sanji would later discover it had been Ace—had dropped a flare into the water. Then a second one came in at a different angle. They were chucking them at the hole to light him a path back to safety. Good boys.

Sanji adjusted his grip on Zoro and shifted so he could get his legs up towards the surface. He dug his toe picks into the underside of the ice and used them to move like he was scaling a mountain. Which was around accurate to what it felt like.

The sound he made when he broke the surface was somewhere between a scream and a gasp. If the water was cold, the air above it was simply frigid, and all at once everything on Sanji's body ached.

"Hah…" Sanji's eyes felt wide. They searched for light the way his lungs searched for breath.

He had to dunk back into the water a bit to get enough leverage to shove Zoro up on the ice. He managed to get the Marimo so far out that he was only submerged from the knees down. Then, using the hockey stick as a brace, he began to climb out too. Little by little, until he was lying flat on top of Zoro's cold form.

People were cheering and yelling on the shore, but when Sanji looked up at them his vision was too blurry to make out who was where. "Shit," he breathed, ducking his head back down to rest his cheek against Zoro's. He was so cold. They both were.

One hand at a time, he pressed his wool mittens against the ice. They were wet, and the cool air would freeze them in place. Even if he passed out, they would keep him from sliding back into the water. "j-Jack and r-Rose have n-nothing on me and you, eh, Marimo?"

But Zoro didn't answer. He didn't move. He didn't /breathe/.

"shhShit," Sanji said again, jerking his head back up to look at Zoro's face. "Shit! Oi, Marimo, wake up!"

Of course he would be so stubborn. Couldn't even do something nice like 'wake up' on request. With regret, Sanji slipped a hand out of the mitten and pressed his fingers over Zoro's lips. He really wasn't breathing. And this really wasn't the best angle for first aid.

"r-Rope!?" Sanji's voice was desperate despite him trying to hold onto his fear.

"There wasn't any in the cars…" Keith was standing on the shore next to Chopper. They each had their hands pulled up and into their hair, gripping as though they might be able to use the hold to get a grip on the situation.

Sanji could feel tears threatening to flow down his cheeks. He didn't jump in that stupid lake for nothing. He shifted in an effort to get a better angle, but all his moving accomplished was to crack the ice they were laying on, and sink their lower bodies back into the lake.

And holy fuck that was cold and sudden and surprising…

"SANJI!" Chopper yelled as the pair slipped. After the ice settled, he added, "You have to get him breathing. The longer he goes without oxygen…"

Chopper was studying to be a doctor if the whole NHL superstar thing didn't work out for him. It must have been killing him to just stand there on the shore and watch one of his friends slowly dying of asphyxiation.

Dammit.

Carefully—as carefully as he could—Sanji pressed his lips over Zoro's. The form wasn't perfect, but beggars couldn't be choosers. They didn't have the luxury of chest compressions or proper head tilts, so this would just have to do.

Time passed like a speeding bullet while Sanji made every effort to breathe for the mosshead. Too much time. Time that felt like forever. The sun must have set at least eight times before Zoro began choking up a lungful of water. Then his eyes blinked open, and it was the most wonderful thing Sanji had ever seen.

Which was probably why he kissed him. Joy, relief, and no small part temporary insanity. He kissed him so hard that Sanji thought their mouths might stick together and never come undone. Then he broke the kiss with a gasp of shock. What the fuck was he doing?

Zoro's eyes were wide when Sanji pulled back. "shhshutup," Sanji told that perplexed expression before hiding his face back down against the Marimo's shoulder.

Zoro brought his arms up around Sanji, eliciting another cheer from the shore from everyone who couldn't really see what was going on. Zoro was moving, and that was one Hell of a good sign. "Way too fucking cold here…" Zoro said, making the understatement of the year.

Luffy was watching it all with such a serious expression on his face. Ace was still standing beside him, holding him back even though Luffy wasn't trying to get away anymore. So, more just holding him.

Sanji couldn't see anyone else until something splashed into the water right next to him. A hockey stick. With a bunch of cloth—sweaters and jerseys and blankets—tied to it.

"Perfect!" Usopp called out.

"SUPER!" Franky added.

"Oi… Ballerina…"

Oh, thank fuck. "Just shut up and hold on." Sanji wormed his other hand out of the frozen glove and grabbed the 'rope' instead. He kept one hand on Zoro, just in case.

Zoro didn't seem pleased, but he did lift an arm to grab hold of Usopp's life line. The other arm he left firmly around Sanji's waist. "Don't tell me what to do," he breathed, trying to make it heated, but sincerely lacking the energy.

Slowly, like continental drift, Ace, Keith, and the Americans began to pull the pair in. When they got close enough to the shore that Sanji was certain the ice wouldn't crack, he rolled away from Zoro and pushed up to his own feet. A challenge on skates and frozen legs over a broken floor, but he tried it anyway.

Sirens were sounding in the distance, but they were getting closer. An ambulance would hopefully show up soon. With blankets, and soup, and a warm, dry blankets. Did he mention the blankets?

Fuck, but he was tired. He wanted to sink down and go to sleep on the ice while he waited, but there were suddenly a pair of very strong, very slender arms around him. Luffy D Monkey. Luffy had glomped onto him, and was refusing to let him go. With a sigh, Sanji attempted to pass off what he mistook for gratitude.

Luffy looking up at him suddenly stopped the words on his lips. His face… He was so concerned. For Sanji.

The fierce protection took Sanji so much by surprise that he couldn't help but to throw his arms around Luffy and hold on for dear life. It felt nice on top of how terrible everything else felt. When Sanji fell to his knees in the snow, Luffy dipped down with him, and continued to hold him close.

"Don't you dare scare me like that again, Sanji," Luffy breathed while someone threw a dry blanket over both of them. He sounded angry. Angry and concerned. And… Proud?

The kid was a fucking enigma.

Chopper had pulled Zoro onto the shore and was in the process of stripping him of his wet clothes—the pragmatic thing to do when dealing with hypothermia. Good. The idiot was safe, so Sanji could concentrate on himself.

"No more jumping into frozen lakes," Sanji agreed, tucking himself against Luffy, and whoever else was hugging him from the other side of his new blanket. He stayed that way, stealing as much of their warmth as possible, until the paramedics showed up and enticed them to let go with bribes of electric blankets—at least twice as good as regular blankets—and a bed like surface to sleep on.

Everything was going to be okay.


	8. Day four evening, Day five early morning

Snow Ballet - Day Four, Evening | Day Five, Early Morning (Modern AU One Piece fic) Inspired by fan art by Exzireart  
Master Post

Author's note: Ivankov's accent

In the anime, Iva pronounces personal pronounces (e.g. you, I, etc.) with a V in front of them (e.g. vanata, vatashi, etc.). The direct adjustment into English would be to just do the same thing (e.g. vou, Vi, etc.). This is the way things are translated in the subs (At least the ones I have).  
But there's also another school of thought where the mispronunciation is due to a Russian accent (Hinted at by the Russian name).

Normally I subscribe to the first school of thought on the subject, mostly because Russia isn't a country in Oda's world, so the accent doesn't have to fall into the confines of beingspecifically Russian. However, since I am writing Iva as being specifically Russian in this fic, I'll be using the Russian accent. It's a creative decision, similar to how Sanji will say 'Miss Robin' instead of 'Robin-chan' because in this story he's not Japanese. Sorry if that's jarring.

Iva's house—her estate, really—was a lot larger than Zoro ever anticipated. Dartbrow's girlfriend had explained on their long drive over that Iva's father came from oil money, and her mother had been a genius with investments, but Zoro never expected the mansion they were driving up to.

Even Usopp who had married into quite a lot of money himself was stunned silent as he drove up the main drive to the front door. They passed a fountain with a large bronze statue in the centre, and Luffy leaned across Zoro's lap so he could roll the window down for a better look.

Zoro felt his eyebrow twitch in irritation. He put his hand over Luffy's face, shoving him back into his own seat.

Their captain didn't seem to mind the treatment. "Did you see the size of that statue, Zoro? It was a statue fountain made entirely of bronze! So cool! I'm going to get one of those for the front yard!"

Zoro shivered, but refused to admit the weakness and close the window. Instead he crossed his arms and concentrated on his idiot captain. "This is why you're always broke."

"You should really get someone to manage your money if you have problems with it," Nami said, distractedly tapping a pencil against her lips while she thought. She'd been making little notes on a map the entire journey, and apparently arriving at their destination wasn't solving whatever problem she had with it.

"Why don't you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Manage my money for me!"

Nami turned around to look at Luffy from where she was sitting in the passenger seat, her hands neatly folding the map with seemingly practiced instinct. Her hair was up in pig tales and cute pink clips; she was wearing glasses, and had a dimple on her lower lip from where she'd been pressing a pencil. It was an adorable image, and Zoro appreciated it on some level. He could definitely see why someone like Sanji would be attracted to her.

The redhead was considering Luffy, attempting to sum up what he was actually offering before she said, "You don't even know me…"

"So?" Luffy laughed. "I can tell you'd be good at it. Plus, Sanji's one of us now, so that makes you family too."

Zoro would have shaken his head at Luffy, but it wasn't worth the effort. Nami didn't look like she bought anything he was saying, but she was being polite about it. "I would be happy to help you out. For a nominal fee, of course," she said. It looked like she was expecting Luffy to balk at the statement.

Instead, Luffy just laughed again and agreed. Nami looked over at Zoro, who—when compared to Usopp and Luffy—came off as the relatively sane one. She gave him a 'Is this guy for real' look.

Zoro shrugged, and then smiled a little fondly. "When the captain makes his mind up about something, it's really hard to change it."

Luffy nodded with the assessment as Usopp finished parking, then darted out of the car. He ran up the staircase taking two at a time and let himself in through the huge double doors. He neither bothered to knock or to shut the door behind him. "Oiii! Sanjiiii!"

The remaining three slid out of the car to follow. Usopp actually seemed vaguely at home in his environment, and for that Zoro was jealous. He straightened his tie, performed the Picard Maneuver on his vest, and walked casually up the stairs in Luffy's wake.

Usopp was either a natural at this sort of thing, or he was a terribly good liar.

Nami was staring up at the building with something that fell short of awe. She also looked like she belonged there, with a professional looking skirt suit over a blouse that was ever so subtly pink. She wore knee high boots to finish off the look.

Suddenly Zoro was very aware of how under dressed he probably was.

He would have been mortified, if he was the type to be concerned about conforming to social norms. With a grin, he slipped into his ugly team USA sweater and joined Nami at the bottom of the stairs.

"I never get tired of seeing this place," Nami said and looked over at Zoro. Her aura of belonging seemed completely different from Usopp's experience or Luffy's absolute lack of caring. Unlike them, Nami looked at the house like someone who intended to own it someday. Or some other place exactly like it.

Zoro nodded like he understood, which wasn't entirely untrue. He understood the words of course. He understood the sentiment. But living in a huge empty mansion where you had to hire people just to keep it clean? Not something he wanted for himself.

Without further comment, he removed his sunglasses and hooked the arm into the top of his partly unbuttoned shirt before heading inside.

They were greeted at the door by a huge woman with even huger hair. The neck line of her cocktail dress plunged low enough for Zoro to see her naval, and she wore more makeup than an 80s hair band. As the woman got closer, she seemed to grow deceptively taller until she was staring down at Zoro with a wide smile. Zoro realised he must be looking at Sanji's friend, Iva.

"How are you feeling, Zoro-boy?" she purred at him by means of greeting.

Zoro simply shrugged. It had only been a few hours since he fell into the lake, but he already wanted to put it behind him. "Never better." Wasn't she the one who nearly died earlier in the week? Sanji's 'Miracle Person'? He should be asking her how she was doing, not the other way around.

Iva looked at him for a long moment before saying, "Vell, come in out of the cold." She kept eyeing him, though, and it made Zoro a little uncomfortable. "Sanji-boy's in the kitchen where it's warm."

Zoro nodded as though he'd just heard good information, and then balked at himself. "Wait, what? Why would I care?" He snapped his mouth shut to cut off any more stupidity that he might sputter out, and turned his head resolutely away to end the line of conversation.

Iva didn't seem to mind the fluster. "Dinner vill not be for some time now. Do make yourself at home." She reached over Zoro's head to accept a glass of wine Inazuma had come over to hand her. "There's more in the pantry," she said before the two of them left Zoro to wander.

Well, that was a weird thing to do. Just invite someone into your giant sprawling house and leave him to find his own way around. No one could possibly blame him when he wound up somewhere on the second or third floor, staring at what looked like family pictures all hung up on the wall.

Upon closer inspection, it was possible that these were all students of Ivankov's. That Bon guy skating with some chick with long blue hair, a dude in pink feathers, Iva and Inazuma—both in women's clothes in that one, though there was another where they were both dressed as men. Iva was far more attractive than Ivankov, and Zoro wondered at the miracles of modern makeup.

Next was one with Bon again. This time he was dressed in a suit and tie with no makeup or sparkles. He looked good, but he didn't look like him. It was weird how—just like Iva—the skater was more suited to the flamboyant than the mundane.

In the picture, Bon had just let go of his partner, who was spinning in the air. She was dressed in a short but flowing white dress. It had a gauzy skirt that flowed out in tatters, tipped in orange and green. She looked like the personification of Spring. Her long blonde hair was falling out of a bun with the force of her spin, and she easily could have been four or feet off the ice. It was incredibly impressive.

And actually kind of sexy. The pair of them together were a class act, and the girl was—

"What are you doing in the basement?"

Zoro nearly jumped out of his shoes as he turned to face the source of the voice. Usopp was standing in a stairwell, watching him. He held up a wireless controller as he walked the rest of the way down the stairs. "Luffy wants to know if you're going to come up and join us."

Zoro nodded, turning nonchalantly away from the wall he'd been staring at. "Mm."

Usopp nodded, forcing Zoro to need to look back at him to find out what his response is. The sniper was distracted by the same picture Zoro had been staring at. He must have noticed how really hot Bon's partner was, too.

"Wow, she looks like she could be Sanji's sister. They could be twins!"

Usopp was laughing to himself, and didn't notice the shiver that suddenly caught Zoro, or the embarrassment that followed. Capitalising on his distraction with the photo, Zoro decided to sneak out before Usopp did notice. "Tell him I'll be up to join you soon. Kick his butt for me in the meantime."

"Aye, aye," Usopp replied softly with a mock salute.

Zoro found the kitchen before he found the room with the—what he imagined was huge—TV. He walked in to the sound of something simmering, and something else sizzling. It smelled amazing in there, and just as Iva promised, it was warm. He instantly remembered the promise of wine, and that was enough to draw him fully into the room.

Considering how many things were cooking in there, it was a shock the room was empty. Or so he thought. As, Zoro strode across the large room towards what he assumed would be the pantry, he caught the sight of a sleeping snow ballerina tucked against one of the ovens. He had his face buried in his arms, his knees curled up to his chest, and was leaning into the heat produced by the oven.

Frowning, thoughts of wine drifted away and were replaced with concern for the idiot. He looked cold. Mind made up, Zoro slipped his arms out of his ugly sweater and knelt next to Sanji. Carefully, so as not to wake him, Zoro leaned forward and began to tuck his sweater around Sanji's body.

He was just about to pull back away when he noticed Sanji was looking at him, and absolutely froze. Neither of them moved for a full minute until Zoro said simply, "You looked cold."

Sanji just watched his face, and Zoro had no idea what was going through his head. "How are you not?"

Zoro shrugged, and that seemed to be the movement that broke the spell. "I probably am. I just don't let myself feel it."

Sanji sat up looking annoyed, forcing Zoro to sit back and give him room to move. "What sort of idiot response is that 'you don't let yourself feel cold'?" The sweater fell down his arm, but he tugged it back into place.

Zoro couldn't remember much of the incident. He remembered falling through the ice. That instant flash of cold. And then nothing else until he was warm inside an ambulance. The fall had been terrifying. Freezing. He would have given anything to not be in his own body, and so he forced his mind away from the situation.

Usopp told him that Sanji had jumped in to save him without hesitation. He said that Sanji knew what he was getting himself into, but that he did it anyway. It sounded like the absolute truth, but there's no way it could have been. No one would have jumped into that lake who had any idea what it going to be like.

"You're one to talk, with your jumping into frozen lakes in the middle of winter. What the Hell were you thinking, anyway?"

Sanji narrowed his eyes at him. "I was thinking that there was no way a shithead like you would be a strong enough swimmer to save himself, so someone else was going to have to do it for him."

"Tsh," Zoro turned his head away and locked his jaw. Sanji was staring at him, waiting for a response, and Zoro could feel it. "What?" he snapped.

"You have a really shitty way of saying thanks, asshole."

Zoro clucked his tongue at Sanji, but didn't look back or give any other sort of acknowledgment. He could see Sanji out of the corner of his eye. The prick was shaking his head at Zoro with a sweet smirk plastered on his stupid face.

"What are you here for?" Sanji asked.

"Booze."

Sanji chuckled. "Ice lakes you can handle, but one dinner with a bunch of socialites, and you're ready to start drinking already?" He was chucking shit. But he was also walking over to what looked like a wine fridge. "White or red?"

"Red."

Sanji nodded, apparently thinking that this was a good call. He returned with a cork screw and a pair of glasses, gesturing for Zoro to sit at a bar on the other side of the galley island. As Zoro complied, Sanji pulled the cork from the bottle and began to fill the glasses. "/Madeira/," Sanji said.

'Said' might have been too weak a descriptor. Sanji's tongue licked the word out of his mouth like a high class prostitute.

"What does that mean?"

"The wine." Sanji watched Zoro.

"Oh."

Sanji apparently realised he didn't know much about wine, so he continued, "It's a good, old wine. Perfect for taking the edge off when dining at a multi-billionaire's family estate."

Zoro nodded while Sanji pushed one glass towards him and kept the other for himself. He didn't have a stool on his side, but he didn't seem to mind.

At some point, Sanji had slipped his arms into the sleeves of Zoro's sweater. They were too long for him, so he'd rolled them up along with his shirt sleeves. The roll cut a fine line of orange in a cuff at his elbows, and somehow suited the look of the sweater. Zoro hadn't noticed Sanji take off his blazer, but it was gone, leaving just shirt and sweater. Somehow, Sanji managed to turn it into a good look.

"Fuck that's an ugly sweater," Zoro said with a sigh, and was secretly delighted to hear a genuine laugh from Sanji.

The Canadian turned and tapped the door to another fridge with his foot. It came open easily, as though Sanji knew just the right way to hit it to get it open. From inside, he grabbed a pie tin and small container of whipped cream.

When he returned to their island, he hopped up on the counter and set the pie on surface in front of them. From somewhere, he produced two forks and handed one to Zoro.

"What's this? Some sort of weird Russian sheep skin thing?"

Sanji blinked at Zoro. Twice. "It's /apple pie/."

Incredulous little shit.

"Try it. Goes good with the wine."

Zoro was uncertain, but it would be entirely too un-American to ignore an offer of apple pie, so he dug in.

Sanji was a genius.

It was quite possibly the most wonderful taste combination he'd ever experienced. Leave it to a Canadian in Russia to pair a Portuguese wine with a European classic just to make an American happy.

When Sanji took some of the cream and mixed that into the flavour tornado they he'd created, Zoro mirrored the move. The whip cream was really good. It certainly wasn't the processed stuff he normally bought to go on top of his pudding cup. Creamy without being too sweet. "What brand is this?"

"What brand is what?" Sanji asked before shoveling a bite into his mouth.

"The whip cream. What brand is it? I'd like to get some at home if I can."

Sanji quirked a brow and then beamed. "You really like it? Thanks! I made it this morning!"

His smile was so bright and innocent. Just pure treasure. It startled Zoro on some level to see Sanji like that. Zoro considered his next words very carefully, ensuring they fell somewhere between another compliment and indifference. "If you can cook like this, then why do you even bother skating?"

"I love to skate," Sanji nodded as he spoke, seemingly understanding exactly what Zoro was asking. "I've always loved to skate. And I always will. But it isn't everything that defines me." He shrugged. "It's sort of something Iva helped me with on the side while she was teaching me how to cook."

Zoro played hockey at the Olympics. And then when he was done playing hockey, he went back home and played hockey for the NHL. In the summer—when there was no hockey—he played street hockey. Or field hockey. Or he watched classic hockey on TV. Sometimes he played hockey based games. Playstation hockey, air hockey. Hell, he even had one of those foosball tables. Except with hockey.

"Well you get it," Sanji said around another bite of the pie. They were going to eat this whole damn pie, and there would be none left for anyone else. "Otherwise you'd be way more upset that Team Canada kicked Team USA's ass on the lake this morning."

Zoro blinked. His team had fallen 2-1 before the ice had broken, but Sanji had been the one making all of the difference. And he wouldn't be there when the full teams actually met. Zoro grinned, "I'm not worried. You won't be there when we face them for real."

Sanji sat up like Zoro had startled him with his words. His expression was thoughtful, and he was blushing a little bit. "Uh…thanks."

Zoro's could feel his cheeks heat in embarrassment. He shoved another bite of pie into his mouth, talking around it like the uncouth clod he was grown to be. "We play better when everyone on the other team knows what they're doing."

Sanji looked severely pissed off at the comment. "What are you saying, asshole!"

Zoro grinned, eyes dancing with glee for having turned the tables on the cook. "You heard me." He scooped up the last of the pie off of what had been unspoken as 'Sanji's side of the pie,' shoveled it into his mouth, and chewed around a smug grin.

Sanji was distracted from his indignant rage by the action. He stared at the empty pie plate like a man who just realised he'd been tricked into letting his guard down.

Then he just completely let the tension float away and pushed himself off the counter to retrieve his blazer. He pulled a pack of smokes from the pocket, slipped one between his lips, and used a match to light it. Once lit, Sanji took a long drag, and blew a steady stream of smoke into one of the vents above the stove. It looked therapeutic.

Zoro just watched him as he did all of this. The man moved like a cat. Not a little house cat, but more like a panther. A panther in… A really ugly sweater. "Fuck that's an ugly sweater," Zoro said before reaching for the bottle of wine to refresh his drink.

Sanji chuckled softly, turning to model with a seemingly practiced pose. "You just don't have the stage presence to carry off something this fashionable."

Zoro clucked his tongue and rolled the wine in his glass. He didn't normally use a glass to drink wine, but this seemed like the type of wine that needed proper breathing to really get the flavour out.

He frowned as his mind drifted back to the game before. He'd nearly died because he lost control of his emotions. Anger had gotten the better of him. If he hadn't gotten so pissed and punched the ice, he wouldn't have fallen knees first into the drink.

"Oi, Cook. About this morning, and what happened between us on the ice? I'd really rather pretend it never did."

Sanji seemed… Zoro didn't know. Quietly emotional about the statement. He didn't know where that emotion was coming from. Probably at the thought of losing such good insult fodder.

"Emotions… were running high." Zoro didn't like talking about emotions, but he needed to acknowledge his mistakes if he was going to learn from them. "And I can say with certainty that it won't happen again. So… If you don't mind, I'd just prefer to not talk about it."

"…Yeah, sure. Of course." Sanji smirked tightly. It looked like he was doing it to mask something else. Weird. "Just a moment of weakness in an emotional situation. You couldn't let something like that happen again."

Well, his words made it sound like he understood, at least. "Exactly." Zoro nodded, watching Sanji and feeling like there was something off about the blond of a sudden. "I don't ever want to deal with the fallout of something like that. Just lucky the press wasn't there…" he grumbled.

That seemed to get Sanji nodding a little more honestly. "There would have been a lot of fallout, with everyone's eyes on these specific games."

Suddenly it was awkward between them, even though Sanji seemed like he understood what Zoro was saying. Not from Zoro's end, but from Sanji's, and Zoro didn't know why. Irritating. And the only way to get to the bottom of it would be to ask, which was something he couldn't bring himself to do.

After a few moments, he decided Sanji must have been imagining just what the press would do with footage of him breaking the ice with his fist. Some of the comments would be good, some would be bad, but all of them would have been at least partly hyped up and inaccurate.

The blond turned his back to Zoro as a timer went off. He walked to a pair of oven mitts and then back to the stove. Zoro wanted to keep watching him cook, but he still needed to kick Luffy's ass at whatever game they were playing. "Hey, I promised Luffy a game."

Sanji didn't turn his focus away from the roast in front of him, where he was doing something with spices. "They're down the hall to the left. Just go through that door," he nodded to the door Zoro had come in. "Take a right, then go straight down the hall and turn left next to the suit of armour."

Zoro watched him a few more beats, then shrugged. He picked up his glass and turned to follow Sanji's instructions; instructions that turned out to be awful and inaccurate and plagued with problems. He went up at least two flights of stairs before determining he was lost.

It seriously wasn't his fault when he ended up finding his way to a great big room that had a great big fireplace and a great big bed. When faced with such a great big invitation for a great big post-eating/pre-dinner nap, it would be almost /rude/ of him not to accept.

It was dark when he was woken up by the sound of someone stoking the fireplace. He peeked one eye open and saw a man in a black suit leaning over the fire. Tall, slender, great ass, blond hair, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. Sanji. "Oi."

Sanji turned around to look at Zoro, and began to remove the borrowed sweater. "Hey, sorry. Didn't mean to wake you."

"You always sneak into other people's rooms and so you can have a smoke at the foot of their bed?" Zoro snapped groggily.

Sanji watched as he removed the sweater. He walked to the side of the bed and tossed it onto a chair before he made a point of flicking his cigarette against the ashtray on the night stand. "Non," he said softly before taking a long drag. "Mais, Je do like to smoke before I sleep."

Sanji was climbing onto the bed, and Zoro didn't know what to do about that, so he just laid back and watched. "Have you been drinking?"

"Oui," Sanji said, pulling his tie loose and then sliding it slowly off his neck. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he was giving off heat. "~Finished the bottle of wine you left on the counter,~" He said, but Zoro didn't really speak any French so he didn't follow it.

"Are you wearing makeup?" Zoro asked, noticing blues and greens sparkling around his eyes, and a solid line of navy defining them.

"Oui," Sanji said again and reached over to blindly snuff his cigarette in the ashtray.

"Do you always speak in French when you're drunk?" He was kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shirt as he moved closer, and Zoro was starting to have really mixed feelings about his situation.

"Not always," Sanji said, leaning in close enough that he had to stop working the buttons and instead use his hands to keep himself upright. "~Sometimes I do. But sometimes I find a friend and make my mouth so busy I don't have time to speak in any language at all.~"

Where Zoro was leaning, their lips were almost touching. He had no idea what Sanji was saying, but it sounded sexy as fuck. Sanji must be able to get any girl he wanted with that wicked French tongue. It just poured out of him like honey. Zoro gasped ever so slightly, inhaling just as Sanji was breathing out.

They were getting closer, and Zoro was certain he could taste the wine lingering on Sanji's breath, even though their lips weren't actually touching. He went very still, uncertain of the situation, but content to just breathe Sanji in. He was so light-headed. It felt like the fumes on Sanji's breath were getting him drunk, too.

"Marimo…" Sanji breathed.

Zoro was so distracted by the feel of the word that he didn't even balk at it. "Yeah?" he asked after licking his lips and almost touching Sanji's with his tongue. His heart was in his throat. This was intense. This was amazing. And they weren't even touching.

Sanji dipped in closer, his lips trailing close to but not quite touching Zoro's cheek as he leaned into his ear and whispered, "You're on my side of the bed." Then he pulled back and sat up on his knees, breaking the spell as he moved out of Zoro's personal space. He stretched, and removed his belt, and when he spoke again his tone was back to normal. "I'm willing to share, but you can't have my side."

God dammit. Zoro crossed his arms, refusing to admit to being affected by what was clearly some sort of tease. "What says this is your side of the bed?"

"My stuff." Sanji gestured to the night stand where, aside from the ashtray and a very simple lamp, there was a picture of Sanji as a little kid standing next to Red Leg Zeff.

In the picture, they were both wearing chef costumes—Zoro assumed they were costumes; Sanji couldn't have been more than 6 in the picture—and Zeff had a hand on top of Sanji's head while the later attempted to hit him. Except that he couldn't, because he was too short, and Zeff had him by the forehead. Sanji seemed furious, but Zeff was caught mid-laugh and looked like was having the time of his life.

With a grumble, Zoro abdicated and slid back to the other side. The grumble was silenced when Sanji slipped in under the sheets and settled with his back to Zoro, nuzzling into the warm spot Zoro had vacated.

Poor Zoro was left with nothing but the cold side of the bed. He rolled away from Sanji in irritation, and that was when he noticed the picture of Robin and Nami on the other side of the bed. "Hey, your stuff's over here too!"

"Of course it is, don't be stupid, this is my room."

Why would he… "You just wanted my warm spot?"

"Oui," Sanji yawned, sounding like he was already falling asleep. "S'also closer to the fireplace…"

Well, that wouldn't do. Zoro wasn't about to let himself be toyed with like that. With a grunt, he shifted into Sanji's space. "You're going to steal my heat, I'm going to steal yours," he said in explanation, though Sanji hadn't asked for one.

"Fair," Sanji replied. With a content sigh, he settled back to back with Zoro.

Everything was quiet but for the crackle of the fire. Sanji's breath evened out and became slow and rhythmic. Zoro was convinced Sanji had fallen asleep. He rolled over to look at him, but Sanji's face was turned away. "Oi, you awake?" Zoro asked. When Sanji didn't answer, Zoro slipped an arm over his back and closed his eyes. "Thanks for saving me today, asshole," he whispered, content in the knowledge that Sanji wouldn't hear him.

It was hours later that Zoro was awoken with a second sudden start. This time he was suddenly cold. He realised he had no blankets covering him, but that wasn't normally enough to wake him. It took him a moment of adjusting and remembering where he was before he picked up the sounds of laboured breathing to his right.

Curious, Zoro crawled to the side of the bed to see what was going on. Pale in the moonlight streaming in a window, Sanji was laid out over the pile of blankets that had previously been covering them. There was a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin, and his shirt looked damp with it. His eyes were clenched tight, and his forehead was creased. He was having a hard time breathing.

A nightmare, maybe? Probably a nightmare. But what could a guy like Sanji possibly have nightmares about?

A frown tugged at Zoro's lips, and the American reached out to prod Sanji. When Sanji didn't stir, he lifted his hand to brush Sanji's mop of hair away from his eyes and said softly, "Oi… Idiot. Wake up."

Zoro continued to gently the space between Sanji's eyebrows with the pad of his thumb until the later sat up with a gasp. Zoro didn't know what to do about this new situation, so he just sat back up on the bed and watched to see what moves Sanji would make next.

Sanji was sucking at air like a man who had been drowning. It was an action that that Zoro now had an intimate affinity for recognising. Suspecting there wasn't much he could do to help, Zoro continued to wait for the blond to remember where he was and that he was safe.

When he finally stopped panting, when he finally recovered from his mental torment, Sanji pushed up on shaky legs. He didn't say a word as he crossed the bedroom, and Zoro didn't feel the need to break the silence either.

Sanji slipped into the ensuite without bothering to shut the door. There was a sound of running water, and after a moment he reappeared, silhouetted by the glow from the bathroom behind him. He had a towel in his hand and was drying his face. Only once that was done did he look across the room to where Zoro was watching him patiently from the bed.

Neither one of them said anything. Their relationship was built on making digs at each other, but both were careful not to make them when the other was already down. That made the silence itself some kind of comforting device. Or at least that's how Zoro looked at it.

Sanji finished observing the hockey player at about the same time as he finished drying his hands. He walked over to a huge closet and disappeared inside.

Zoro took that opportunity to roll off the bed, retrieve the blankets, and at least dump them back on the bed even if he hesitated to actually make it. His actions knocked over a picture that was on the nightstand, cracking the glass.

"Shit," he muttered catching Sanji's attention.

The Canadian came back in the room at the sound of the curse. He was wearing a teal button up shirt but had yet to button it or tuck it in, so it hung down framing his body. There was also a black neck tie hanging over his shoulders and waiting to be tied, and a black vest hanging over his arm. Apparently Sanji wasn't planning on going back to sleep.

"What happened?" Sanji asked as he crossed the room to turn on the bed side lamp.

"One of your pictures fell—" Zoro nearly fell over when he picked up the frame to see the hot blonde chick again. "Over," he finished. "I didn't know you had a sister."

Sanji took the picture and set it back on the night stand, face down. "I don't." He didn't elaborate, or leave any room for the conversation to continue. Instead, he picked up his cigarettes and tapped one out of the pack. "You didn't eat dinner last night. You hungry?"

"I could eat."

Sanji lit his cigarette, tossed the spent match in the ashtray, nodded, and then started towards the door. "I'll make sure there's something for you in the kitchen when you decide to get up," he said, and then shut the door so Zoro could have the room back.

Zoro had no idea what that was about, but since Sanji didn't seem to want to discuss it, he let it slide.


End file.
